Know, Don’t Know

Drawn by a jeal­ous moon and teth­ered to an uncon­scious coastline,

this unde­fined place in me rolls like a twisted tide.

The joke: the place is between my head and my heart, my voice. I speak

to draw the two together, like a bugling elk look­ing for its mate,

like a hawker at the fair­grounds sell­ing noth­ing for something,

like a mime.

My brain, immove­able in its surety, bored as a rock.

My heart, flood­ing, look­ing like a silly pool of cream,

stir­ring,

slowly,

con­stantly,

even­tu­ally chang­ing, my very mind.

And still my voice, its con­stant chat­ter, keep­ing me awake or asleep or whatever…

While the dis­con­nected parts of me work over­time to find each other,

and make me whole.