An engineer on acid

Strange, stranger still this way comes
when the engineer hallucinates—
micrograms and stellar systems!
For in everything there is a relation,
he says—his eyes sit like eggs
in his head as he smokes a cigarette—
nothing feels right, he says, nothing is!
What a lonely kid, him, who holds
God in his hand and can’t see him—
you are a gestalt of infinitely relative
ideas, but an idea of a body! Say,
Spinoza said so: and the nineteen-sixties
barked collectively, “We are one,”
and the sky looks down on a thunderdome—
a fable of the bees routed in toto
where each man is violent in himself
and sated best when fed his children—
an endless cannibalism this universe!

Then I hold his hand and bathe him in
icewater and calm him and tell him I am—

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~ by Jeremy on July 5, 2013.

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