Hunger
Fall 2014 Vol. 31 #1
Fall 2014 Vol. 31 #1
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Mind is a monkey, the Hindus say—
neural fibers hung lobe to lobe
like rainforest vines swung from
by noisy little macaque-thoughts
in the canopy of gray matter,
branches descending into the
body’s trunk where finally,
beneath the ground, the root
disappears untouched by light.
You can hear them laughing,
just close your eyes, try
to sit still as the monsoon
of the body’s multiphonic
cacophony storms through
chasing even the jaguar
under cover. Only
the fungi of one’s darkest
prehuman sensibilities
can speak then, a language
even enlightenment can
barely hear. But then,
a real monkey knows
the obvious: noise
doesn’t hurt the forest,
nor clouds the sky.
∞