Despite the death of Descartes
Dichotomies still walk through
Our lives like legs and arms.
We choose a path
When the road forks.
Some make their way
To a place of spacious
Clouds and clusters
Of trees, where words
Rise and fall
In quick succession,
Sometimes shedding
Seedlings that canopy the earth.
Some make their way
To the sea,
Down mighty rivers
That carry all with
Their irresistible force
To a golden bed
Of soft warm sand.
When I work from the mind
I can dislocate the body
And show that the world
Of sense and feeling
Is no more than perception
When I work from the body
I can show how obscure
The idea of mind can be
Locked up in this matter-world.
I hear someone say
That if you listen to your heart
How can you go wrong?
The power-hungry people
Stand on pyres of hearts
That had faith in feeling.
I hear someone say
That if you listen to your heart
Hordes will trample upon you.
But isolation builds the gulags
Fills the deepest pits
With bodies.
I can only live
In one place
At one time.
Sincerity of heart is not
A goddess of truth.
Consistency of mind is not
A god of ethics.
We need to walk
And speak out
With an all-engaging
Feeling,
And a wisdom
That is made anew
With every moment.
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