Poem: Brain In a Vat

 

Brain In a Vat

cauliflower

frost- and gnarl-ridden.

 

no thoughts grace

its extirpated maze.

 

could it be a philosopher’s stone

flung too far and lodged in pitch?

 

whatever genie swam its sulci and gyri

has long fled,

 

leaving an empty jug,

unstoppered and decantered,

 

nothing but cirrhotic symptoms,

buoyant in alkalis,

 

immune, as well,

to fever, fear, doubt, worry, sex,

 

a cursed adonis,

tranformed beyond frog,

 

implacable, apathetic

dome.

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"philosopher's stone" is a reference to the philosophyer Renee Descartes, who famously discussed 'brain in a vat'-style theories.  These theories argue that each of us can't really be sure that other people exist.   Maybe everyone else is just an element of a dream you are having.  Or maybe you are only a brain in a vat somewhere, experiencing an unreal setting, including non-real persons, similar to the movie, The Matrix.

9/16 flow mods an hour after original post (e.g. "flung" replaces "that flew") 

So tired of being crippled, six months off and on.  At least more poems go up, out of desperation to have any meaning in my life.