my brain a compost pile steaming

my brain a compost pile steaming

needs another layer of leaf mulch 

to stop the stink to sink to depth to reconnect

nerves are worms, moving and making

new dirt (thought) out of shit (shit)

my brain a loamy heap steaming

churns yesterday's detritus into tomorrow's flowers

grey matter brown matter gooey stew

there is nothing left out, no castoffs, no away

no escape

i settle into the underground tramways

the neural-vermal chutes and slithers

until still as a morning settling into itself

i come clear, whole, 

ready to nurture seedlings and sprouts  

these new/ancient thoughts

recursive in their curvilinear clarity

weaving themselves into braided leaves

bright blossom then heaving back to muck

then sliming again into smooth soft dirt