Cow's Eye

Each big advance of the screwdriver opens our eyes to the fairy kingdom, which we have failed to see before, and makes new demands on our powers of observation. The first impulse is to back away from a volcano before it erupts and look down to consider the viability of our shoes. This extension of the visceral into the domain of the vocal causes the Vikings to reevaluate the diaphanous iridescences of trigonometry and jingle their bells in abject triumph. In brief, the dude abides.

Where am I going with this? I don’t know.

The chemical constitution of stars is revealed through spectroscopy. But the chemical constitution of my afternoon is chiefly lopsided, or whatever floats around in the goldenrod. My telescope doesn’t see as far as Babylon. But I can see the beach, which is only a mile away, and flavors my day with interaction, grains of sand employed in the business of yearning.

Today’s poetry is brought to you by haircare. Just lean back and let the world fall over you. It will feel like alcohol. You will carve yourself out of a bar of soap. Your nose will be steep, but your eyes will be filled with spirit, and twinkle like little X-rays.

When the Greek surgeon Galen discovered the circulation of blood, he was chief physician to the gladiators in Pergamon. Think about that: a chest torn open by an opponent’s blade, the heart still beating. My strategy is to not get too hung up on any idea but let the stigmas wallow in their own misperceptions and follow the flow of the river to its own natural conclusion.

I know that the truth lies in flashlights, and batteries, and that closets smell of old clothes and leather boots, and that bacteria thrive in the human gut, some of them good, some of them bad, and that a chief cause of Being is the irrefutable assembly of key chains. Key chains with gadgets, key chains with charms.

Key chains.

In a word, we should strive to attain the knowing of how little we know. It’s a good place to begin. Abu Dhabi’s new indoor amusement park doesn’t open until July. We should not confuse the aestheticization of drum circles with graveyards. If my stove is engaged with fugues it’s because circumference has the divinity of space.

And then there’s the whole matter of mandrake. What is it, exactly? I never see it in the produce section at the grocery store, or as in ingredient in any health supplement. The plant has psychoactive properties and can induce frenzies, a state of divine madness. What the Greeks meant by madness was not a pathological state but a dramatic alteration of consciousness. I find that fascinating. Here in 21^st century, there are very few shamanistic traditions to lead one out of the mundane and into the plazas where the mute become eloquent and the eloquent turn still.

But there was a time when the fungus was heard and the intonations of the trees stirred the humor of the imagination.

Mesopotamian cuneiform texts make frequent mention of a wine known as “cow’s eye.” This was a wine made with mandrake. One’s pupils widened. Hence, “cow’s eye.” It’s a rare plant, and its root is said to resemble a person.