What is mental may mislead us,
the physical, on the other hand,
for example, in a cloud you see
an elephant, but that elephant
is mental, not physical, while a
physical animal in a living room
could be mentally misconstrued
as a ceiling cloud; the mental
is also physical, and vice versa.
We might call, in this discussion,
what is physical, the denotative
meaning, and what is mental,
the connotative meaning. They
are both meanings, both valid
experience, and one plays off
the other. Denotative meanings
describe, while connotative
meanings suggest. Further,
we may easily and without
argument agree on clouds,
but to say a cloud is an
elephant is a statement
about which there may be
some disagreement. Either
way, rain begins to fall and
the farmer is happy while
the weekend golfer pissed.
Let’s make sense together, you and me:
Our needs are simple:
water and food, shelter, one another.
We think we are thinking beings
but that’s not to say
this rock and paper don’t exist.
The rock quivers to its icy core
when the voice speaks its thunder
and the elephant walks
through the room.
All thought is substantive, bears
out, vindicates the light of all
we see and miss which absolves
the darkness. The rock too thinks,
thinks, “I am a rock; I have it easy.”
Don’t worry about meaning. We
play hide and seek, turn sounds
into music, shelter in rocks,
plant tomatoes under elephants.
By meaning we mean passing
a baton in a conversational relay.
Ask the easy questions first:
who, what, when, where, why,
and how – the architect built
on nothing, why then should
nothing distract you?
Meantime, last night I slept
on my guitar, while the blinds
blew in the breeze of the open
window, and night birds flew
in and out, around the room,
each with its own song.
The Coming of the Toads 