Jung / Malena / Darwin

Cuddle up with your shadow self and watch this.

Filmmaker Chris Jopp
Partner Graywolf Press

Jung / Malena / Darwin

A man could stumble into the consulting room
with werewolf all around him. A woman
would swear she flew. Another, spectral meetings
with emissaries from outer space. It isn’t surprising
Jung believed that everyone bears
a “shadow self,” an extraextensional
him or her; nor should it be surprising
I believe him, I agree: another
possibility-field is furled inside us and,
at some chance cue, will opportunistically
open. Only that explains where N goes to,
when W’s asleep. Tomayto /
tomahto. Malena is synesthesiac; “o”
is black for her, so “orange” isn’t really
orange--her two incompatible hers
in sibling rivalry. Orange reminds me:
Florida. Amazingly enough, in 2003
the aurora borealis was visible
as the water-skiers stopped inscribing their esses over the water
and the orange pickers halted in a grove,
with an almost religious glaze to their eyes,
as somebody else’s sky grew superimposed
on theirs. When N drags home in the wee hours,
W’s still asleep: and dreaming of L. When Darwin
thought to test sonic responses of earthworms,
he requested that his children serenade
his soily jars of them: and, dutifully, an orchestra
of whistle, bassoon, and piano began
concatenating the night away in the billards room,
its air alive with tremble and skreek,
low-blown moan and high-pitched tootle, so
racketing you’d think the row of dead wrens
and the barnacles might rise up and start capering.
The worms appeared deaf to the music; nor,
I’ll bet, does this concert sound like a day
in your world—though it’s of your world.
Albert Goldbarth





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Poem © 2012 Albert Goldbarth, all rights reserved. Used by permission of the author and publisher Graywolf Press. Film © 2014 Motionpoems, Inc., all rights reserved.