smart-ass

the brain informs me of things I should like

and sometimes enlightens as to why.

the brain advises against what will kill me

and up to now effectively, although

it warns of inevitable change

in its benevolent attitude.  it's true,

the brain works in mysterious ways, the God of my physiology

and sometimes it’s difficult to determine the difference between

construction and destruction when the process lies somewhere

in the rubble of the middle-ground of each.

but to write poems I need first

the audacity to do such a thing and even then

I don’t always see clearly, but I always think I do, and that’s enough

to get the brain through the day in nearly one piece.