*
Find two people here in “friend, because I am,” but let’s not throw away the likelihood of just one personality splitting itself. After four years with this poem, I came to associate it with the tale of one chariot dragged on by two horses, one earthly and one divine. Kierkegaard used this trope, and the self is supposed to be that vehicle always about to tear, incapable of unshackling from either the winged pull of the transcendent or the pure inertia of the immanent.
*
No, that was Plato: always one for splits, for halved people. Kierkegaard doubled Plato by recovering his toys. Legend has it, Creeley all but tried to come upon a fitting phraseology for this vehicle’s plight. Died a failure.
*
Kafka ought to jump in with “in parable, he won,” but haven’t we called out too many stragglers? For this blasted convoy, to the very last line? What “can we do against” reading a sliver of the dark?
*
That hiss among the clicks—“christ’s sake, look ”—sounds like something hard-selling us the exterior, but this poem never had hope of revving without us taking it easy. Now if we’re to throw in some purpose; someone’s about to get it.
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