- Vol. 08
- Chapter 07
Image by Unknown Artist / Wellcome Collection
What are we?
Every thing needs a spirit, and every
spirit needs a thing.
Every morning, the clear-eyed beast
puts me on like a cloak, a clock,
a passport, a point
of entry into this. I am: its home
address, its current set
of keys, coordinates. It has
many eyeholes – I am one set.
Would you like to see it,
the white that will remain when I
am said and done? How it moves me,
and I know that there is only one, so you
must be it too.
How would we know ourselves
it if were not for our separation,
sortation into various bags of skin?
I say: touch me, that it may touch itself.