Ding an Sich: For Aldous Huxley
By: Andrew Boden
Word and pigment
render page and painting
but not the chair in which Van Gogh
sat nights, trying to comprehend
the canvas called reality
by consensus of ear and eye,
skin touching the pointillist
illusion that is a chair,
or the young man’s hand
clutching the paint brush
against his heart,
because just for a second
he saw the chair as it was before his birth
into this world of conned senses
and tried, in vain, to paint it.