The Mind-Body Problem
High in the white pine
a crow scrapes out a warning,
flexing its blue-black wings.
A sound as old as childhood.
He wants to know: One, or two?
Are mind and body one, or two?
In childhood, were they one, or two?
His harsh voice sends me back to where
mind put a permanent warning
in the voice of the crow.
The World It Was
I was a kid transfixed by
the endlessly mutating
gloomy rooms among the trees,
and I wandered far.
At seventeen, I married thunder
and wind and snow. I took vows.
I pledged to be only half-human,
so only half-guilty of our crimes
against Earth and all its beings.
Wherever I am, I visit Earth’s memorial.
Sometimes I leave a few words
in the dirt on a car.
The memorial surrounds us.
Earth’s body is its grave.
Chase Twichell has published eight books of poetry, most recently Things as It Is (Copper Canyon, 2018). A new book is forthcoming in 2026.
Header photo by by Jürgen, courtesy Pixabay.
