Barry Smith

The Ghost in the Machine

Descartes was, one might say, somewhat eccentric,
lethargic too – he never rose before noon
except to perform for an exacting queen
who desired an elucidation of the cosmos.
Needless to say, he left the court in haste,
muttering oaths about the land of Gustavus,
retiring to the comfort of an old Dutch stove.
Very soon, he died; pleurisy and cold killed him.

A little later, the revolution was over,
his proof of God dismissed or ignored,
others came who pronounced the death of the spirit:
clocks in their hands and utopia in their hearts,
they chanted wild slogans of man supreme.
Later still a new barrenness settled on the land,
some began to murmur that it was all a mistake,
but the co-ordinates of the soul had long gone missing.

Barry Smith is the director of the South Downs Poetry Festival. He has worked in theatre, education and the arts. His debut collection, Performance Rites, is published by Waterloo Press.