I believe I have kept the words on too tight a leash. I am strangling them and they are in turn choking me, so to alleviate the difficulties I have decided to unleash the words for awhile. The results are what they are. Read ’em or skip ’em it’s up to you but I have to go through this process and take the words as they come, hopefully like young boys in the hands of young girls, and vice versa of course…

It’s a restless hungry feeling
That don’t mean no one no good.
from One Too Many Mornings
a Song by Bob Dylan

So often it starts with a Dylan song.

Listen to what the man says
because that itch you are feeling
deep in the gray part of your brain
isn’t going to stop It is real and can only
be reached by the mitochondria
you don’t even know you have
There is no literal thing as a brain
It takes all the figurative intelligence
we have to make a model and
to understand it is only a model and yet
pretend we have found the thing in itself
You see the chemicals move along the
fibers connecting neuron to neuron
making jump after jump across the chasm
between what was and what is and yet
you still cannot explain gravity or how
the smallest parts move fastest under its
weight The feeling won’t be ignored as it gnaws
through the synapses and membranes
that keep you upright and coherent in
times like these when really so many of us
are just trying to stay unnoticed and mute
because we are afraid the sound and fury
going on inside us will begin to seep out
around the edges making us targets for
random bullets flying in from all directions
and let’s be upfront here the random bullets
are scaring us back to the womb