Life Within the Synapse

Radio clicks on at 5:15,
NPR, mid interview.
The guest is saying “It’s a matter
Of chemistry and not character.”
Jolted alert, I know this truth.

Dopamine,
Serotonin,
Norepinephrine,
—Gamma
——Amino
———Butyric
————Acid.

Synaptic-cleft dwellers
Controlling mood and rhythm
Through their balancing tricks,
Grim clowns spinning
Plates on a high wire.

One moment at peace, composed,
Secure. The next
Sad, angry, anxious as those
Chemical Devils run
Amok through the
Neuronic jungle of my mind.

What Is True

truth, that little weasel,
scampers ahead, just
out of reach, when the

only true thing I
know right now is I am
writing this verse, but

once written, these
poor lines will be no more
true than yesterday.

The Crushing Grip of Conviction

Grip
You know the truth,
Absolutely, you do.
The facts are obvious,
So indisputable.

Blissful it must be to
Bask in the comforting
Rays of certitude,
Righteous and secure.

Ah, but what of those
Oceans of conflicting
Truths with currents of
Doubt and confusion?

What then of those
Precious beliefs,
Cherished opinions, and
Hard-cured convictions?

Can you be wrong and
Others right? No, no, it
Cannot be that way; for
Strong is the grip of

Blind faith in God
And Preachers and
Politicians who never
Can be wrong. Ever.

(Even
When
They
Are.)