Nik Boyd

Though thoughts might seem so light
and seemingly weigh so little,
still they bear upon my crown,
and so I write them down,
so's to forget them once
or twice again.

I write my mind upon the page
that I might soon forget it,
and fold my tender cortex
into strange stark dialects
that distill out the senses
from their once sundered
or surrendered tenses.

What little meanings press upon
my ear lobes and grey matters,
they settle on my head with force
that leaves my heart in tatters.

I'd rather be bereft of wit
and deemed a twit
than suffer it
all from
loss of laughter.

I can look to see
where it has gone
down on the page,
no fear of loss
from becalmed body-mind
when all I see is shined
upon me.

Well it's a start
to impart
some forgotten art
to my brain,
head fallen down to heart,
and be unminded once again.