Saturday, 9 May 2020

#129 - at play with the tomograph (tomography)









10.5.20
129
playing with the tomograph
or simply just
tomography

a little wrestle with myself

for Irina Frolova
following our recent conversation about what we know and don’t


imagine me
sliced right down the middle
equal halves
and everyone can see in
like that cow Damien Hirst did

equal halves
dark ages and here’s my face to light

who to be?
which one?

think of a balanced diet
or mongrel me
go wild with the knife

all kinds of cuts
and ways to baste

the city and my woods
where did I stop being this that?

make a cartwheel once we were
(Aristophanes’ idea)
according to Plato, as he recalls
(see how third hand it all goes)

takes a while to work it out
by I’m the magic pudding
(that’s why always running off)

music and paint
I must balance with words
when out of puff
walk the walk (how else?)

I swam in a pool of genes
came clean
towelled off
nobody’s ancestor

what they knew would chill the blood

this is how I have my nose
curly locks
wry ironies
such lungs
the sturdy heart I tricked

think of it as a club
the family you won’t know

accept a slice
please won’t you?

they took off their pants
so I could be
each morning erect a statue to fact
and too much information

because I am them
and they are me
it’s all a raft to cling
I and everyone goes under

someone said
‘what they don’t know won’t hurt’

but here we are wondering

will it be sinister
what if murderers?
someone has to have been

stories they never told us
ones they were never told

these must hold the key
as with the air we breathe
once theirs
and pass it on                

they forgot so we’d be free
and ask no thanks
but heaven knows them
cloud down glad watch over
as eyes of an eternity

live up and make a reputation 
or we could lower the tone
whichever way
we’re in the dark

joy weeps, won’t it
what are the odds?
(that’s a thing you hear)
just a body in a billion years

imagine me
sliced right

must not
must never
think of them
but always wake to light





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