Neurology
High notes are too much
Piano, then the strings
Of violin, viola, and the cello
Maybe someone adds
Spanish guitar
Too much, even one
To make them
No wonder the heart is said
To have and have not
Its strings
To resonate
And somehow in between them all
Outside, inside
There’s weeping
C L Couch
Photo by Belen Garrido on Unsplash
Villafranca del Castillo, Spain
Slipstream
Too many thoughts to keep
I must let them go
Around the corner, just before
The turn, a thought moving
Too fast toward the new street
And I can’t catch up
To tap it on the shoulder
To say, Slow down! The neurons
Flash, and I miss everything
I want to get to know them
Look, here’s a café just along the way
We might stop, have some coffee
A nosh
While I may get to know you, maybe,
If you will,
Slip you in my pocket to go over with
Clarity, later on
No? The synaptic pace is set?
I’ll simply lose you, then
Have what marks I made
(little more than bird tracks)
Fold them in a file
Read over the pages from
Time to time
Hoping for salience with
A slowed-down sense
Of light speed
C L Couch
By Joachim Lutz, CC BY-SA 3.0 de, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20052646
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