Reason is to belief
as passion, to desire—

the conditions under which
we hold things true
and pursue people justly.

Pure reason, raw passion:
a critique, a crisis. A life.

When the poet can no longer praise the
battle, cannot sing the hero's song and
when the priest no longer prays for glory
in our struggle over evil, promising
the day's disposed to our intent,

let's not look for other poets, let
us not find other priests, and let us not
seek counsel from those who know of gods
or passions more sympathetic to our cause.
Let us not find heart to strive against a void.

No, let the soldier rest. Let the generals
pause for thought before the breach. And
let the minister of war resign her small
portfolio of conflict in the world.

The surface is to the appearance,
as the doing, to the seeing,
      the deed, to the scene.
So began my disquisition.

To the eye, she was a beautiful body,
a structure of planes and masses,
      of weight and light.
I told her this, of course.

To the hand, she was a delicate soul,
a texture of passage and resistance;
      a tangle of flesh.
I tried to show her this was so.

"You're overthinking it," she said.
"There is no perfect resolution
      of desire and intention.
No angel here will intervene.

Let us put these beautiful bodies
where our mouths are.
Let us look back on this
                  like pillars of salt."

How can you see? she asked me
when I told her I couldn't draw.
Not a day since then went by
without a line. I looked at things,
their shapes and shadows, and
I put them on the page. I tried
to see her, but I couldn't draw
her likeness. And when she looked
at me, I knew that I was being seen
more clearly, as if bathed in better
light. But she didn't let me see
her drawings. And so my image of
myself was safe, as was of course
the image that she had of me.

It would be fun to date a beautiful woman.
I'm sure that's not the right attitude, but
I'd enjoy the hell out of it. I don't know
very much about them — how they work,
or even smell — but I'd have a blast
taking one out for drinks, even dinner, and
watching her deal with the ordinary things
that are placed before her. And I don't know
how these things go, or how the evening ends,
but doesn't beauty speak entirely for itself,
especially at night? Like I say, I know
I'd be doing it all wrong. And I know she'd
need to get home and on with her life, but
it would be fun to date a beautiful woman.