On the Soul

Dan Beachy-Quick


. . . is always what it is is within
life but life cannot touch it is afraid
or not when fear creeps from distant
shadows over the body is how it is
with intelligence or not of any opinion
the thorn numb or is it dumb what
is sharp but is what feels no pain is
pleasure its solitude or is it like light
woven through a leaf a sympathy in
blood or the erection or a symphony
before the violin string by rosin pulls
the rose through the air or is the rose
of infinite petals the rose of no one's
sleep is the doves in the columbarium
is a nest not an urn not an urn is
a window holding itself open in space
is lost treatise on Atlantis is Atlantis
itself is the horse galloping in a cloud
called thunder or is it in the long grass
the fawn asleep long past her mother
who has gone is a neighbor of wisdom
is a chariot driven by a nameless man
is synapse or cul-de-sac or hollow below
bone is pushing up a hill a boulder is
the boulder rolling down is the eyes
behind closed lids when the sun lights
pink the skin as it lights a late cloud up
or the lightning lacing the thunderhead
through self-lit self-illuminating self-
corrupting self-destroying is a lion
who has an idea instead of teeth is
a logic that learns to hate the raios
is a radio tuned to no station is static
is a sock clinging to a shirt in heaven
is a double-knot a careful child ties
loosening all day as she runs is a string
trying to tie itself into a knot is
a purifying machine turning in circles
centripetal force spin-cycle centrifuge
is a circumference fleeing apocryphal
centers is arch asymptote on the y-axis
where in the inifitesimal the meadow
grows wild grows wide and those roots
digging down dangle out the simple
plane hovering there in nothing out past
Pluto reaching backwards to the sun. . .