Floating Deep
Anatomically speaking
I would rather not let you see my brain,
yet you can imagine it the same way I imagine yours.
Poetics abound, but let’s not fall into that mind trap,
comparisons in the dark will teach us more.
Pull up a chair, be beautiful, I’m not old
In your brain, you are not young in mine. We are
sea creatures floating just under the surface
of the oily film of our affectations;
there in that saline soup
our brains swim, meet and assimilate.
Thoughts grow feelers long enough to find
our furthest reaches, no matter how far awareness
submerges, surfaces, or emerges,
these sensors don’t end where the skin stops breathing.
Show me your feet, and I will show you my hands,
we will paint them with a naked green and blue dye,
then print out our dreams on the air between us.
What I wish to say is:
brains need this kind of image-making,
otherwise two luminous jellyfish such as we
will never find each other
in this deep dark ocean.
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