In the best sense, becoming another so that there is no trace left of what we think is the self. I am whoever. It is not gesture but the cortex of gesture, not movement but the soul of movement. Look at the earth with your left eye and at the sky with your right. Worship contraries. What makes us alike is also what makes us different. From Man to Jokester to Trickster is a nudge toward the deep, the incalculable abyss you stare into so it will stare back into you. We are our consciousness and it is the god in us who struggles to be in everyone in order to be ourselves. When you see the chalked form of the murdered man on the cement throw yourself onto it and feel the heat of the stone-hard fit. This is the liquid poem, the forefinger traced around both the neck and the sun: to be and be and be as a creek turns corners by grace of volume, heft of water, speed by rate of drop, even the contour of stone changing day by day. So that: when you wake in the night, the freedom of the nightmare turned to dream follows you into morning, and there is no skin on earth you cannot enter, no beast or plant, no man or woman you may not flow through and become. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE BUILDING OF SPRINGFIELD by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY TWO POEMS TO HANS THOMA ON HIS SIXIETH BIRTHDAY: 1. MOONLIGHT NIGHT by RAINER MARIA RILKE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 8. MUHAIMIN by EDWIN ARNOLD LETTER TO B.W. PROCTOR, ESQ., FROM OXFORD; MAY, 1825 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: FAREWELL DARK by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A HERO OF SAN JUAN HILL by OLIVA WARD BUSH |