Those unable to think abstractly,

Will hate abstractly, because feeling needs a place to go.

What is the abstract? It is emotion knowing—when we don’t really know.

We think with our feelings, sometimes matter-of-factly,

When the mundane thing must be done,

But daring insights, when we fly close to the truth, or the sun,

Turn our feelings into thoughts. We triumph in the mind,

As thoughts become feelings, when music, both beautiful and blind,

Narrows pleasure by increasing it.

Look at this poetry. It is music.

But those with no insights can only abstractly be abstract,

Can only feel the frustration of feeling, or examine dully the dull fact.

Abstraction is ubiquitous—because partial information

Belongs to expert, child, intoxicant—drunk in death, or elation.

The rush to hate abstractly appalls us. Will all the women hate all the men?

The whole society becomes infected. Madness. War. Here it comes again.

Remember, there is always a reason. Reason can and will understand hate,

Even when it’s directed at innocent you. Let’s go. It’s not too late.



1 Comment

  1. noochinator said,

    September 13, 2018 at 12:09 pm

    Little Red

    They told me beware the big bad wolf,
    But he’s the one I like to find.
    I need to be devoured,
    Bitten and clawed,
    Taken to that place that’s all instinct,
    All lust and aggression and marks.

    Did my pretty dress fool you?
    My smile perhaps.
    Not as innocent as I look.
    Tear it off, leave me in tatters.
    Ravage me with your strong hands,
    Your mouth, your tongue.
    All the better to eat me with.

    I’m the hungry one,
    Starving for hot flesh against mine,
    Pinned down, surrendering.
    I’m not lost in these woods,
    I’m hunting the big bad wolf,
    And hoping he finds me.


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