Canto CCII

Did I say there was no self at all?
Not quite—I meant not in the first place.
There is a self, though it can be as small

as the “I” that flickered in the thick darkness
of the oven Descartes meditated in;
and other times the self is as vast as

the eyebeam that shoots to the horizon
from the cramped confines of a one bedroom flat;
but under aneasthesia, it is gone,

nor is it the self that it was last night,
it’s quite identical but not the same,
just as the same candle emits its light

through its successive line of differing flames.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. callitcandi
    Mar 19, 2012 @ 19:24:51

    I like this piece Niall, i was with you in Folkestone some time ago, would you like to perform in Harrogate? Andi


  2. peter litton
    Mar 21, 2012 @ 01:18:10

    Depending on whether I have drunk the best part of a bottle of Sainsbury’s Merlot, this is either brilliant mind expanding poetry or the pretentious mutterings of one who has spent too long in the cramped confines of a one bedroom flat.

    Did Descartes meditate in an oven ? If so, why?


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