The human body. Fragile. Handle with Care. The more you know about the human body, the more you fear. The fear can become a paralysis. So much can go wrong. Slips, cuts, breaks, cracks, bursts. The heart tires. The enzymes mix signals. Some babies are born and don't feel pain. You would think it would be good, not to feel pain, but they don't live long. They don't know when they're chewing their tongues. They don't know to take their fingers out of the blender, the door, the disposal, the lawn mower. Pain is what keeps you alive, aware, on the defensive. You can live without pain, but not for long.

I know enough about the human body to be afraid of getting out of bed too quickly and of staying in it too long. Some days I know enough about the human body to hold my breath and pray to gods whom I create on my behalf.

And then I see on a side stage these sadomasochistic devils, these extraordinarily defiant marvels, piercing pulling tugging sticking hanging swinging jabbing. It's nauseating, revolting, compelling. How can the body withstand that? Are their bodies superior? Did they get better genes and more hormones? Is the trick not biology but will? Is it a combination of all of the above that drives athletes to feats of strength and speed and endurance? But what about the normal joe abusing his health for fifty years? He isn't spending a few minutes every day ramming a skewer down his throat or feeding razor wire into a nostril or clipping a brick to his nutsack. He's serious. He's committed. He's in for the long haul. He's eating porterhouse steaks and smoking cigars and drinking scotch and sitting on his ass for fifty years. And then he lives. He lives! That fucking bastard inexplicably lives!

*

Koro is the fear that one's genius has gone flaccid. Koro is the fear that one's will is shrinking. Koro is the fear that one's energy is ebbing. Koro is the fear that it is too late for more. The compromises necessary for advancement have, in sum, conceived your present situation. You are fucked. You are fucked, have fucked, and are done fucking. Koro is the priapic precipice. You already feared that what you were capable of achieving was far less than what you wanted to achieve. And you feared you had lowered your goal, and diluted your desire to achieve that goal. Add to all that, koro: the fear that your capacities are shrinking. You are capable of less every day. You have a bad knee and a double hernia and a house in the suburbs. You do not have a plan. You are limp. You will not rise again. Koro is a word that begins hard, hollows out, and ends in a sigh.

*

It is not that I am barely awake. I am, rather, emburrowed in grogginess. I am drowning under waves of exhaustion. I am in "sleep mode." I am recovering from something. I can't recall. The voices of my children resolve into words, and the words skitter in shadow. Hanging screens slide and swing and I try to catch a word here and there in their layered dimensions.

*