That spin in the waves,
Maybe it's Mal de Debarquement
Or Acoustic Neuroma
This abscission
Of the wires
With no clear distinction
Between the senses
And mind
But the gulf widening
Between what's perceived
And what is known,
Like the organs of sense
Can finally admit
They stole it long ago
From the greater brain
As a kind of gift,
An objective world!
But the transducers
In the endocrine
Are succumbing now
To the pineal antennae
And the light that drills
Through it;
Times are too large
For the senses,
The truth too important to risk
To the eyes, the ears, the throat.
Maybe now the visible world
Will be visible.
