If someone told you something in a dream,
did you hear it from them?
It wasn’t the beating of my eardrums,
but the wind-chimes in my mind,
that really shook me.
As clearly as I heard that phrase,
Just like when I’m awake,
I can’t quite place
a name to a face.
Some times my mind,
plays tricks on me,
some times,
it speaks outright lies.
To pursue,
embedded memories,
is not worth the energy.
Perusing,
confusing illusions,
only leads you back,
to the directory.
Please,
Spare me the details,
Your verbosity,
Will only derail,
The course of the story.
Your memory will fail,
Halfway through the tale,
And it will all be gone with the wind.
In it’s place: an awkward laugh,
A mystified grumble,
Or even a comment about how old you’re getting.
You’ll wonder why your memory lapsed,
Though this is mere curiosity,
As you free-fall down the rabbit hole,
Stroking your chin,
At terminal velocity.
Eyes to the heavens,
You’ll see,
The entrance to the chasm,
Shrink,
Until,
It becomes a twinkling,
North Star,
Imposter.
The mushroom,
As it is known,
Is the tip of the fungal iceberg,
So to speak.
Beneath the fruiting body,
In the crux,
Is an interconnected,
Root and chute structure,
That undergirds,
The organism.
An unseen web,
Of white matter,
That provides a foundation.
A loose, scattered scaffold,
That aids the fungus in digestion.
In a superficially cerebral way,
Think of it like this:
The white matter,
In your brain,
Is a network,
Of axons,
That allows you to understand,
Various axioms,
And maxims,
And act on them.
You may not be aware of it,
Or scarcely know of such a thing,
But it’s presence is felt,
Nonetheless.
Haven’t you heard?
Hearing, the sensation
requires some good vibration,
to get the eardrums
moving.
Microwave radiation,
in the tiniest doses,
bypasses bones
no barriers broken.
Your brain buzzes
like the Chatty Cathy,
it actually is –
even if you’re at a loss for words.
The electrons in
your audio cortex
are eager to broadcast
for me,
but only get so far.
It’s easy to gossip,
when the whispers
are beamed directly into
your thoughts.
Can we say, then,
that we are of the same mind?
The File Pile 