Racism

Negating our capabilities,
Descartes every morning wondered
where lies the door to things,
how accomplished matter is spun
into our field of facts, at the edge
of his nose, standing, a giant now a tiny
mathematician, a nuanced tinkler of numbers
fooling around in ideas

until he found the orifice
of all things, the point where we take breath
or we let the life out of someone else, or
we cook breakfast, each point all the same
and endless numbers of them at every point- - -
some madness, the way
we come to understand life