Daily Archives: December 8, 2004

How the Brain Lost its Brawn

There was an idea
that grew in a brain —
not a clean break, but rather
a troubling sprain.

It swelled up and shut off
the centers of speech,
thus remaining hidden;
and just beyond reach

it festered, fermented
and spread like a rash
along the poor cortex
which gave up, and crashed.

But that was so long ago —
now the brain’s learned
to shun stray ideas
lest its pathways burn

with even the memory
of strange and queer thought;
to be safe, it forgets
most that it’s been taught

and so pretty thoughtless
it plods through the day —
imagining it has
always been this way.

Now dearly beloved,
believe this is true;
lest you want ideas
to happen to you.

08 DEC 2004

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Remembering July in New Orleans

The minutes drag and slow to just a crawl,
their tired legs turned rubber, and their hands,
so used to crisp precision, mime a drawl
that stretches seconds out like rubber bands.

Each sound becomes a dopplered wave, each sigh
a whirlwind swirling echoes in its wake;
and even the sweet words of lullabies
rasp in the ears like dried leaves ‘neath a rake.

Beneath the skin, each vessel like a drum
begins in low vibration keeping time
and with a dull, lethargic creep drones on.

Through air grown thick and stagnant standing dumb,
their wings beslimed, ideas fight to climb;
and then the moment ends, and they are gone.

08 DEC 2004

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