Archive for June 10th, 2011


By Ian Mullins

So it’s all just chemistry then,
my brain lies sodden in a vat
in a mad professor’s lab,
and one day he’ll change the water
to red or blue,
and all I can do is watch myself
jerk like a puppet
when my strings are slowly cut,
taking such comforts
as the profession allows
me to confess, only secretly relieved

that I am relieved of all
such duties; can pass the baton
to a closed fist, content
that my part of the race is finally
over and that the finish
I will never live to see
is waiting round the bend
for some other soul
to snatch away my glory:

so I’ll never need to smash the glass
and find out if my brain can leap
like a football kicked so high in the air
it forgets it isn’t supposed to fly
and hurtles like a pinball between
planets, faces, suns and stars

searching for a body called home.

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