A Mind Interval
(after William Bronk)
Where dreams coalesce toward waking
body parts or a disassembled mannikin
litter the floor mocking us
saying, we don’t need your witness
the floor or its ground is the mind
this interval between places with a reverse charge
for each other also has a certain honesty
a stubborn antique practice no one wants
we pay off with lip service
What we are endures us
with our preferences, whims, desires
the armored pretense we wear like chainmail
to ward off swords of consequence
sometimes works but often doesn’t
until we find ownership overrated
and unnecessary
We let it slide away for this interval
no one owns the floor nor needs to
fallen away we are almost clear
we soak in its absences, its non-locations
its vivid oceanic compassion
it prefers silence but we can’t help ourselves
we think ourselves rational when we’re awake
we’d jabber but it stifles us
its cold hands on our heart and throat
still scattered about on the floor
at last it indulges us, allows metaphors
for its non-existent yet emerging inner patterns
the whole of ‘our’ scattered past in other places
in other company and none
gathers for waking, for its first now step
the Trojan war approaches retreats
in its acquired cadences, its many tellings
captured and released we are no wiser
The Dog Star 
4 Responses to “A Mind Interval”
Whew. Now that’s a mythic poem.
Thanks, Craig. Some things are best said with myth.
Don,This is a mighty poem. It has heft as well as clarity: the “vivid oceanic compassion” here is a glimpse into the vastness of universal consciousness. Here we get to glimpse it through a poetic lens. Whi
Thanks. If there wasn’t a world outside our awareness we’d always be inventing an unsuspecting substitute.