On The Death of Richard Rorty
Take a proposition, frere:
Everything is at stake:
The every and the thing.
Burning. Down. Mistake
This at your own inquisition.
Tough-minded Rorty’s gone.
The mirror of nature’s broken
After a roughhouse wedding.
The mind. Between. A swing.
Once, a canoe went out on a lake.
A paddle swerved, bringing motion
Forward, like blowing will for fire.
It reflected on water, as
Dancing girls and boys shine
A floor with their sure smoothing skitter.
One figure, in the water, touched on
Another, in the vessel. Who was firstly real?
None. Neither. The sister of knowing is making.
poem by Todd Swift
Take a proposition, frere:
Everything is at stake:
The every and the thing.
Burning. Down. Mistake
This at your own inquisition.
Tough-minded Rorty’s gone.
The mirror of nature’s broken
After a roughhouse wedding.
The mind. Between. A swing.
Once, a canoe went out on a lake.
A paddle swerved, bringing motion
Forward, like blowing will for fire.
It reflected on water, as
Dancing girls and boys shine
A floor with their sure smoothing skitter.
One figure, in the water, touched on
Another, in the vessel. Who was firstly real?
None. Neither. The sister of knowing is making.
poem by Todd Swift
