GUT

The mind’s clock is ticking:
Thoughts float thick and thin
Like oil on water or paints
Blending unblending changing
Colors in spurts or smoothly;
Thoughts spouting new thoughts
Ideas Emotions but not Action;
Jumping like a frenzied monkey,
Then jeering like a hyena,
Then muttering like a caged cat.
Swallowing me in a swoon
And letting me fall weightlessly
From an infinite cliff of Ego.
And I never hit rock bottom.

When it is a blank sheet,
It hears the drop of a pin;
It sniffs and cocks its head
As the noises warble mingle
Grow louder shriller into a scream-
Or get doused by a bucketful
Of water that I just filled.