Questions concerning Madness

And the mad women said, "Tell us our names."

What shall we tell the mad,

The living dead?

I am glad for the mind's turning.

I am most afraid of, most in love with

Eyes

And in the eyes the hands of the mind turning.

Do not call this turning by such names

As tools, instruments, and all that turn with

Wheels.

You will mistake the eyes, misprizing names.

These are organic, warm, by brain and heart

Dual-controlled to tempt, to love, to teach with,

Hands which eyes report

Of the brain and the flexible heart.

I am not afraid of the eyes dying,

Having a mind and heart enough to die with.

I am afraid

Of hands, taut with madness, hands that speak

When the mind dies.

Maniac fingers loved are now turning

The wheel of a question, hands that trace

The traceless chaos, turning

Unrecognizable the known face,

The dead hands

In the living eyes.

Tell me the land they live in and their names.

FRIGHT

When buffalo, the mighty-maned, had fled,

A single horseman rode the timid herd.

But where shall I lay down my head?

Below and in a crowded bed?