At last.
The truth about Frankenstein.
This is a poem I wrote about, and dedicated to, our great Fairfield poet, and friend, Bill Graeser. The poem is center-justified, which cannot be reproduced here, and the subtitle and bottom quotes are italicized.
The Poet
Man is made in the image of God*
he composes as he moves
walking within his own world
people, things, impressions, enter
get transformed, reconstructed
become part of his inner landscape
they make their way out again
envoys, wearing masks, metaphors
made of sounds, words, images
he hears them, sees them
he is the observer and the observed
the poet and the poem
he becomes the poem
the poem contains him
together they embody the world
*And God said, “Let us make man in our own image, in our own likeness.” — Genesis 1:26a, 27
*I am one, may I be many. Having created the creation, the creator entered into it. — Taittiriya Upanishad 2.6.1