One planet pierces cloud haze,
late evening, one gleam swimming
(after interplanetary ease)
through all those atmospheric swathes
to confront my ill-fitting spectacles,
refract through my liquids,
tremulous cornea, aberrant lens
blood-berried retina -
but that's the real start.
You see, at deepest now,
one signal starts up as another
runs down (reception, projection),
and through all the brain
correlates of the psyche
somehow | | to consciousness.
(And as I explain this,
sitting in the dark
I am eaten by midges.)
But this is where it signifies;
because it's I, me - mine eyes
look up at that looming planet.
I bow my head over the page
and seek for strength,
get peace.
..
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poesía"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
