Born and bound in a cave, winds have their own mind, a spirit that for the moment is calm. Yet one leaf swings wildly above the creek's narrow bed, hanging discretely we think that an apple is one notion, one idea. But it's not. An apple's properties are split among many different representations. Its color, its shape, its size, its qualities as a food, and probably many other features, are each stored (in the brain) separately. Sometimes information is in a chilly mist. Sliding closer, I see no stem or thread to explain the gravity of its macabre agitation.

Sasquatch dreamed he had two penises,
one above the other. Though embarrassed,
he didn't want either removed, which he
could have done himself.

First we conceived a world of myth, then of method.
Now the specters of both
lie exactly

                             in an image of the person and knowing subject which,
                             paradoxically, has no place for a 'mind' and associates
                             'mental' events with animate essences which
lay
                                                                           
exposed.

 

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