You see them everywhere:
space for rent
between the eyes,
vacant gaze
and plenty of
headroom,
like a Buddhist monk
bowing in prayer,
but minus Enlightenment.
Nothing much is happening
between the networked neurons, like
brain-dead zombies
quietly shambling through life,
and yet,
there are others whose heads
are wild parties,
overfull and too
loud,
shaking the whole block (head)
with their
jubilation
and, upon being invited up
to that raucous gathering,
you want to call the
Fire Marshall
because the schizophrenic
conceits of importance
are beyond their lawful
capacity.
When I meet such
self-crowded people
I start to appreciate
the quieter corners
of empty minds.
The latter offer, at least,
plenty of
space.
Spacious
Published
Tangleroot And Tressknot 