Do this: take two fingers, place them on



the spot behind your ear, either







ear, the spot where your skull drops off







into that valley of muscle



& nerve—that is the muscle that holds up







the skull, that turns the dumb bone



this way & that, that nods your face up &







down when you think you



get it—press deeper, touch the little bundle of







nerves buried there, buried in



the gristle—the nerves that make you blink







when the light bewilders you, that make your tongue



slide in & out when you think you’re in







love, when you think you need a drink, touch



that spot as if you have an itch, close your eyes &







listen, please, close



your eyes—can you hear it? We think our souls live







in boxes, we think someone sits behind our eyes,



lording in his little throne, steering the fork to







the mouth, the mouth to the tit, we think



hungry children live in our bellies & run out with their







empty bowls as the food rains



down, we sometimes think we are those







hungry children, we think



we can think anything & it won’t







matter, we think we can think cut out her tongue,



& then ask her to sing.





