I hope this ringing in my ears isn’t bothering you
It’s just the residue
of too much thinking at the wrong time.

In the middle of the night my brain builds
Dada poetry out of my life,
cutting and pasting fragments together until
I wake up wondering ‘what the hell was that about?’
 
Day time finds my brain in relatively sane working order
reasoning and resolving, reasoning and resolving.
But at night it’s like a sixteen year old left alone
in the house. “No parties” I warn as I drift into sleep.
 
But as soon as my eyes close my brain pops the cork
and the world begins to show up,
in costume,
on unicycles
and ready to party.
 
Just before I wake, my brain attempts to make
a sketchy clean up but I’m sure those stains on my cerebellum
are from a couple of hippocampus with dirty feet
doing the limbic limbo
while my amygdala debates
flight versus fight.
“Oh my God, she’s waking up! Run!”
Good Morning.

#21