Plastic and Gristle


Sinews on an unused path.

No one knows what’s inside, and not really inside, because the body, like the mind is an ontological metaphor:

Objectified, abstract, yet defined, etceterafied, literally,

Our words capture the same things differently because of the way we idealize

the future, indeterminate time,

And the past, determined but since melted.

Sometimes I feel like thinking things through thoroughly,

Belabouring rationale, entertaining myself as objective master.

Other times I feel like believing without proof, acting as if I’ve seen sublimity.

But to be one or the other all the time is as if breathing only in one direction.

January 10th, 2011, Vancouver, BC