Reasons: I

Sometimes intellectual dandruff shakes          away
            From my
                                                       from my thought-roof

My comb is a chisel
That nibbles against flesh
Teeth gnawing off debris
Feeding the air with
Leaping crumbs

I gaze around the brown round table of minds
And retrench myself in reality;

They don’t know I just left the room;
They don’t know I can exit
Without leaking through a doorway

I become one with the other 8;
We read from a single page before us

There is a fight within me
I’m trying to maintain a share of this moment
But my focus dwindles, my mind is a radio
Frequency stashed between two clear channels
I’m in flux; pulled like a stuffed giraffe held
By the grip of competing k9s;

The nowhere.

Not in my own mind, not of the sphere of this room.

I excuse myself for a visit with nature.

– Eric McCarty (3/8/2012)

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