shimon weinroth

a billion cells
more or less
make me
what I am in excess

egress and the want
to guess,
beneath my skin
rippling rivers,

juices of life flow on
different layers
levels staked up,
against each other

turgid and pulsing
synchronized to beat
in unison,
electrical charges of sensations,

charging back and forth
caressing watts propel,
prickly ohms resist, vibrating
in sympathy, a working harmony,

the conductor,
of this symphony
waves his baton,
the magic wand,

unfurls
the musical score,
motifs of thought,
from sensations wrought,

emotions and notions
ring bells,
chimes incite the cells
to act and action

move and motion
into be and being
denying
not to be