There’s a hole in my head
Where thoughts come in
And a machine that whirls them around.
There’s a route from my brain to my pen
On page
And on the paper they’re found.
I wonder where the thoughts came from
And how
From ether’s cosmic flotsam,
They find a way to penetrate
My mind
And then I have to jot some
Notes to take, a word or few,
Flowing ink, that’s how they grew
So fast and so erratic.
Sort them out,
Place just so.
Bloody hell, ecstatic
It feels to me
When out they pour,
Knocking, pushing at my door.
Let me out, they seem to say,
We’re stuck. Your brain’s no place to play.
Put us, black upon the white,
We’ll dance around
And so, take flight
Until we’re tired
And rest, just right.