Dendrite (Except 2 from my Self-Published Chapbook)

The human eyeballs are slung within the orbital cavities of the skull and those well-slung eyeballs see. See that there are twenty-two transparent jelly-fish inside your vitreous body. Crystalline. Like the crystal you hang around your neck for strength every time we collide. The ones in my window that cast prisms on my pillow. Lay your little head down to rest, hush little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, And if that mockingbird don’t sing, Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And a looking glass. And a billy goat. And a cart and bull. And a dog named Rover.  And a bunch of other pointless shit  that you can’t use because you’re a baby and Mama thinks she can buy your love. 

Nearly all newborn babies have the blue blue ocean eye - as the pigment of the iris delivery is backed up because the brown-paper package got lost in the mail and the iris stork had a broken left wing, sling. Later, in due time, after birth, pigmentation will turn brown, hazel, green. And all the baby blue eyes will sink to the bottom of the ocean. Fish food.

Sensory nerves provide the link between tooth and nail. The nail in the fourth step of the stair’s floorboard, that eavesdrops on your whispers and whispers mocking whispers: “glucose coat my blood vessels, chlorophyl my lashes” But you always run up stairs. Childhood fear chasing you up, up. If you don’t go fast enough it will catch you, grip you. Instead, run up and down my central nervous system twenty times, and don’t you stop until you reach my cerebral cortex! Place your lightning-bugged mason jar here. X marks the spot where we repel, where the oil paint meets the turpentine. Go ahead, thin me. Prune.   Prune those neuron cells; enhanced efficiency. That magic forest of incredible beauty; luxuriant growth.  Plasticity  or deforestation?

One cortical neuron will respond to that stimulation. I’ll even spill my guts, show you the precise topography of the receptor surface, all the exact somatic sense pathways that resemble a map of my body’s cortex. Be careful, make haste, there’s a considerable area of cutaneous surface. Traverse to treasure chest.

Dendrite (Excerpt from my self-published chapbook)

Creation from destruction and other space dust that you like to blow in my ears         e v e r  y   s o   o f t e n . 

Sometimes things are just supposed to be jagged and disconnected like a broken windshield galaxy sparklin with brain fluid smeared, car accident style. Did anyone ever ask to become roadkill? And the roadkill said, I miss being a passenger. It fucking hurts to become. 

Have you every cried over spilled milk and then stepped on the shard of glass that mother forgot to sweep up with bare feet eventhough she said, “put your slippers on!”? And the blood drips from your this little piggy goes to market but your baby toe is fine but it still went crying all the way home. 

And Mothergoose was a sexist because some little boys are made from sugar and spice and everything nice. And if you’ve ever met a boy who is made of puppy dog tails, you should probably contact animal services, even if he has stars in his eyes. So you listen to Mary Poppins, instead. But you’re still waiting for your chimney sweep.

Connect the dots.