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Biography is either masked ball or epitaph. As you find me, so we are.

Wednesday, 8 August 2012


I wrote this rhyme to break a spell
That made me think my eyes saw well:
A rose by any other name,
Or butterfly that looks the same?
The children round the storybook
Know when they take another look -
Or they replay a favoured game -
The tale is never quite the same.
The clone is but our own belief
That hides the insect on the leaf.
For chips designed to simulate
Will never recreate their mate.
The Twins – forever two in one -
Show where such sums must come undone;
For if I’m here I can’t be there
(Unless here-there is everywhere)
Tomorrow cannot be today,
Or reproduced another way.
All copies simply don’t exist
Beyond the swirl of human mist;
For we cannot remake A Thing
With nosuchthing as ‘copying’.
And still I see what this reveals,
Not creatures camouflage conceals.

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