Supernatural Nullity

Let’s workshop this poem about how the notion of a realm beyond nature (nature being full expanse of all that is, in principle, understandable) collapses under scrutiny into what cannot be real.

scent of the day: Boccanera, by Orto Parisi. A chemical powerhouse of ashy cacao (a real nose-blinder that I hope will give me more pleasure when I wear it the right way: no more than two sprays, far from the nose), Boccannera has no detectable fecality (despite translating to “black mouth,” an Italian euphemism like our “brown eye”) and its animalism amounts merely to a powdery-clean musk with subtle jasmine indolics—the overall impression being nothing more offensive than bittersweet dark chocolate and burnt caramel enveloped in a cherry-cigarillo ashes, the industrial sharpness of the ash reinforced by synthetic oud (a signature of Orto Parisi) and the powderiness of the ash reinforced by dusty sandalwood and various dry spices (nutmeg, ginger, black pepper).  

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Supernatural Nullity

The only “credible” hope
for some real supernature, 
some stratum ontologically beyond

the grip of logos (not just
as far as we can tell), is if a being
can arise—enter that grip—

from absolute nothing 
(blanker-than-blank nothing),
but then the nominee is: nothing.