Tuesday, July 31, 2018

From Its Glittering Get-Go

If it had been up to me to conjure up –
decide – what body to devise to harbor
all the vast unprecedented strange
capacities of human mind the Cosmos
soon apparently would find it urgent
to incarnate and experimentally bestow
upon the blind and blundering morass
of squirming, leaping, flying, digging,
swimming, stomping, climbing, slinking,
fighting, stinking, frightened animals below,
I’d have worked assiduously to make
possible an apparatus which gave almost
no thought to the practicalities of living
on this fecund messily resistant planet:
this body would be beautiful with only
bare allowance for the need to eat
or fuck or defecate, defend or move
with any useful purpose on the Earth:
its remarkable potential for creation
would require it from birth to vault
into the realm of vision and through
dire ingenuity unparalleled so far
in the production of the sentient being,
make provision from the platform
of aesthetics for invention: take elegant
quick care of the inevitably tedious
necessities it had to heed to keep alive,
so that its thrust could be transcendence.
From the start, its heart would hold
the art of its ascendance: with one
lavishly insistent principle to which it
would and must entrust its destiny:
to manifest what it was here to breed:
a ravishment, a lovely uselessness, what
it was from its glittering get-go: de trop.

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