You evoke such a fantastic image:
the coolness of the temperament
befitting a doctor who is laconic
and whose clinic has a smell of medicine;
proper assessment, diagnosis, and treatment–
that’s it. What a fragility of your persona:
like water you lend yourself to any container
and empty yourself into any thirsty throat,
you’re nonanatomic nevertheless!
If dissection were to be attempted,
they would ask: is there any vacuum? vortex? properties?
Ah! That’s why it is liberated from commitment,
deprived of a demarcated border,
unanchored to a mapped destination!
Caution! Don’t confuse supposed discovery of
organs with forms inductive, deductive, abductive.
Ask a poet’s opinion?
Her imagination can draw water from an
empty tank! Let us not hand over scissors to the poet—
logic might emerge as poignant as the death scene
of a youth!
Notwithstanding, you reign!
And we feel the heat–
the flames emerge from intellectual warfare,
from idiotic skirmishes involving fallacies!
And in gauging your stamina,
my analogical faculty gasps for breath,
refusing to go beyond the hundred active heads of Typhoeus.
You’re unpleasantly shared by rivals
who would refuse to see you on the other side:
you’re friend today, tomorrow a foe—
the onus on them not to let you go!