Organic Bloom By Stanley Kunitz The brain constructs its systems to enclose The steady paradox of thought and sense; Momentously its tissued meaning grows To solve and integrate experience. But life escapes closed reason. We explain Our chaos into cosmos, cell by cell, Only to learn of some insidious pain Beyond the limits of charted hell, A guilt not mentioned in our prayers, a sin Conceived against the self. So, vast and vaster The plasmic circles of gray discipline Spread outward to include each new disaster. Enormous floats the brain's organic bloom, Till, bursting like a fruit, it scatters doom. Does anyone have any idea what this is about, and what the author is saying. I think I have a general idea, but it's probably wrong, and I wanna see if you poet buffs on talkbass know more than I do about this stuff. Any insight? Thanks!