At these lattitudes, we don't get up
before the dawn, or after it;
rather, it arrives before we rise
or after, depending on the season.

To rise is all the same to us.
In the dark or in the morning light,
we open our eyes and, each in our
way, begin to feel our needs.

Our bodies don't resent the change.
Spring to summer, fall to winter,
we understand the process must unfold,
indifferent and cold to our business.

Nor do we care what forces move the sun
or keep us here beneath its wobbly run.

Without reason and passion
our lives become frantic gesticulations
of reference and deference
without sense or motive, no indication
of inference and preference.

Concepts are to reason
as emotions to passion.

As the elements of structure
to the fibres of texture,
as the grids of logic
to the strings of pathos,

certainty is of the order
as pleasure, of the moment.

Emotions are to obedience
as concepts to understanding.

Concepts are to reference
as emotions to deference.

Power is to feeling
as knowledge to thought.

(for David Hoinski)

Philosophy implies poetry.
As in "involves", "entwines",
"entangles", "embraces".

Poetry implicates philosophy.
As in a crime.