Posts tagged ‘ghosts’



i have known ghosts, yes:
of past words and actions, the ashes
of half-remembered meanings…

i speak with them daily, silently: without grief, or
pride, or passion, not confusing them with ‘reality.’

i seem isolate to you, yes, ‘untouched by human hand,’
an island, and yes,
i know too you wished to touch me.

ah, but these ghosts come between us continually.  at
times i can scarcely see you; quite certainly i can’t

i have spent most of my life alone
with these whispering ghosts:  dreaming foolishly of

…but the angry woman cannot hear
my silent whisper, and my throat
is too dry for me to speak.

i have known ghosts,
and little else.


This is ‘after the fashion’ of some writers of last century; Kafka, for one, the author of the Alexandria Quartet (I’m too lazy to look or even Google).  There are two distinct levels; one of the imagery and apparent associated meaning, and the other of the meanings themselves, one generic in a personal sense and the other about…the acquisition of meaning itself!  The derivation is from Dooyeveert’s Modal Philosophy formally, although referent only to my own version, which I encountered before his.  There is an intrinsic fallacy only if you assume that there is a derivable (inherent) meaning to experience–to the modal formulae, I mean; when I encountered his I had discovered the fallacy but not that some of it had been acquired through my own assumptions. The point is that it is very hard indeed to see the present sometimes because of all the shadows of the past.  Well, one of the points, anyway…


Sorry I went on a bit.  I don’t usually but I felt impelled to give an airy wave in the direction of [possible?] meanings to this poem.  I have also implied heavily that I may not be writing poetry at all but very condensed analyses and ‘arguments’ in the philosophical sense.

January 28, 2017 at 10:41 pm Leave a comment

Regarding the Psychic

Yes, actually, I have.  To the extent of helping a ghost get on with it, which is what haunting entails.  Apparently it’s a lot like being caught between life and death and trying to figure out which one of these flashes is dream and which is “reality”.  [Yes, actually, I have.]


Do I think it was real?  I’ve spent my life thinking about reality.  I’ve spent thirty years studying the class of people that doesn’t exist, while only being sure they never suspected they were being studied.  What’s reality?–and quite assuredly, language doesn’t do it for its classification or definition.  [Or defaults to inclusive by common usage.]

July 30, 2008 at 8:33 am Leave a comment