Genius Only Passes Through

The spirit shoved over the face
Of the deep thinker thinking, like
Un chat passant parmi les livres,

Like a jet plane flying over
Flyover-country villages,
Like a cow crossing the meadow.

You can’t think your way to spirit
Anymore than you think your way
To worms or microbiota.

Spirit floats in from others’ mouths,
Mother’s skin, winds’ airborne pollens.
Yes, you think with it, but spirit

Is possessed by getting through you
To wherever is its next place
To loll in sun or shade, refuel.