Who says spilling your brain is a sin?
I do it every day

you can find my blood everywhere
some of it fresh
most of it crusty

if you look closely you can see
tiny pieces of brain
none larger than a penny

swimming or stuck in the blood like
little islands of fantastic memories

great splotches of red forming oceans
in my apartment

mountains of paper
almost overtaken by bloody rivers

notebooks splayed crimson from their
rushing mist.

1 Comment

Filed under poetry

One response to “notebooks

  1. Nice imagery here. I’m a big fan of the notebook myself. Don’t leave home without it. 🙂

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