(no subject)

[katminnaar.livejournal.com]

Desire

It doesn't speak and it isn't schooled,
like a small fetal animal with wettened fur.
It is the blind instinct for life unruled,
visceral frankincense and animal myrrh.
It is what babies bring to kings,
an eyes-shut, ears-shut medicine of the heart
that smells and touches endings and beginnings
without the details of time's experienced part-
fit-into-part-fit-into-part. Like a paw,
it is blunt; like a pet who knows you
and nudges your knee with its snout -- but more raw
and blinder and younger and more divine, too,
than the tamed wild -- it's the drive for what is real,
deeper than the brain's detail: the drive to feel.

(Molly Peacock, 1984)