- Vol. 08
- Chapter 11
We were moulded
We were moulded
from the same clay, which puts
more or less work into disguising it,
depending.
And so we believe: a difference.
One a warm kneading of charcoal and
protein: its elastic, yielding
properties increased with each push
of the hand. Beaten in, not the white
of an egg, but the slate of November
nights.
One a bar of industrial calculations:
we must call it reason, reason,
as it parrots its numbers and pretends
no-one else has eyed the slight bend
behind its desire for levers
and clutches –
We were moulded
One a marvelous exercise
in misunderstandings: not one but two,
not two but three, not three but more
ideas rolled in a ball of orange yarn.
Should we observe, unravel it?
Our science says: a disorder,
a personality. Are our plasticities
compatible? Who knows. This world
is too complicated to grow
a judgement, cut a ladder from
the body of a tree – what then?
the doctor says: sit down
and peel a tangerine.