Here’s The Thing About the Brain
Here’s the thing about the brain–
it gives you no free lunch;
sorrow’s bunched
with the teeming new–askew,
but there it mews,
and when, and after,
you pull out this, that and the other,
it spins from under cover,
and you, who have opened every fence
to let in the green you’ve culled,
are pulled
into some corded stem,
that knows in all its DNA
the lay of primordial muck,
but has not yet learned
to crawl.
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Draft poem just because (without a prompt.) Pic is an old one of mine.
ManicDDaily 
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