Ode to Coleridge

On the toughness of the physical soul     Feeling around in the human, as if inside a sack, soul fends for itself, fends off, prunes, cultivates, eliminates, makes itself up, says ‘is this right?’ (and tries to be reasonably consistent)   tending itself, lurches like Sisyphus into forwardness, backwardness, urges itself to form a […]