Circulus in demonstrando…
“I sought a theme and sought for it in vain…”
from “The Circus Animals’ Desertion”, by W.B. Yeats
I sought a book and sought a page in disdain,
I sought a word and sought each sentence without gain.
Without gain I finally caught the content,
I had caught my subject, yet having caught the content,
having caught the content, at such a cost, only calculable in avoidance of life,
in avoidance of life how I saw the room was framed, as a collage, of neglect.
A paperback’s cover marks a page for another date
from another paperback by size both by length or width more great.
Trash garnishes the bottom of a plate.
Both indicate some modicum of moments
where I couldn’t quit seeking written fragments.
What else led to neglect?
Lack of time my ear might lie in bed led to neglect.
Labor beyond home needed my hands and led to neglect.
Impending future and how to proceed from omens or bad dreams led to neglect.
A friend forwards s.o.s. in recent disconnect.
In recent disconnect Freud and Jung would dig for thought, emotion, experience
as miners seeking gold, the gold of my friend’s intelligence
excavated from recesses beneath a mountain of self-detest.
A mountain forms from plate tectonic glide on the mantle of the earth,
a geological theory about the stuff between world crust and world core in silicate.
Is this group of minerals even equivalent,
equivalent to what’s between my friend? Equivalent by contrast,
equivalent by contrast how uneven, circulus in demonstrando,
I only wish survival of a fellow, and whether he will outlast,
or whether no, I do not, I cannot assume I know.