In the codex of memory
the foundation the basement floor
the contraband we carry
around in our heads
the empirical
raw material
and after all I'm a surveyor's son
trying to make sense of the same warped projections
reality redacted to our needs
a human artifice on physical space
and after all I'm a woman's son
trying to stay right in a world made for sons
a privileged recognition
to lift my feet from the dregs of all that's pa**ed
there's never a second chance to do what should be done
there's never a second chance to do what should be done
Context:
Substructure
In 1844 Heinrich Heine wrote: "Ye fools, so closely to search my trunk! Ye will find in it really nothing: My contraband goods I carry about in my head, not hid in my clothing." To me this brings up the formidable nature of ideas and memory. Ideas are intangible and cannot be seized or searched through like so much baggage, regardless of their seditious nature or illegality. They maintain fluidity outside of the bonds of simple belief. Similarly, memory is a realm that can be shared, but is truly singular in the mind of those who experienced it, resurfacing in reflection or sensual impetus. What is a psyche but the memories and ideas stored away in the recesses of our brains? The human mind is unbelievably strong and complex; the question is how we will employ this capability.