9.02.2020

at home with evil, with unexamined feelings, with just the facts

To write what is human, not escapist 
that is the problem of the hand moving 
apart from my body. 
                         Yet, subject is 
only pretext for assembling the words 
whose real story is process is flow. 
So the hand lurches forward, gliding back 
serenely, radiant with tears, a million 
beings and objects hypnotizing me 
as I sit and stare.
                          Not stupefied. Not aching. 
Today I am one. The hand jauntily 
at home with evil, with unexamined feelings, 
with just the facts.
                          Mind and body, like spikes, 
like love and hate, recede pleasantly. 
Do not be anxious. The hand remembers them. 

[Henri Cole {1956- } “Apollo” ‘X’, from Pierce the Skin: Selected Poems]

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