I have worlds to supervise
by Heather Mchugh
How much can a brain stem
stem? It cannot stop the sucker up–
(What a nasty penchant for make-work!)
Lazing, teasing, it’s been known to let
the ghost braids of a brainy afflorescence
drain down-spine: I talk a sudden red streak
or see blue. Deep in the night I’m made
to doze, so it can play the traffic cop
to rumblings forth and streamings back
from headquarters to factory, from cablelink to coil:
oil-rig details, appointments with the plumber I still
(slumbering) must keep. But just
as soon as I’m awake, I mind
myself. I do my breathing
differently, or so console myself,
decide on deep or shallow as I wish,
contain myself, have worlds to supervise,
as my own calling calls for. IT cannot imagine
what I go through! Every phototropic day,
the work of waving, leaving, flowering,
cross-pollination! All IT knows
is how to bode and rummage.
It’s a duodenal high-brow,
with no hope but the blind If only it
would stem, would really stem!
Take a load off my being! my mind
off my mind!
My apartment has a higher awesome content than YOUR APARTMENT.
my top knot is topper than YOUR top knot!
my face obscuration tactic is CLEVERER than your obscured face techniques!
just admit it.