health is a fickle and friendly creature; by far the strangest.

i have attempted amends with my neurons and synapses

and tried to shake hands with the reddest of blood cells

this heart palpitates at a fast pace on an unhappy track

towards death; and i try to be as kind as possible, measuring

staccato beats with glimpses of worldly beauty and a few good

books. to repay kindness is a gift and life - the happy accident.


i have fiddled around with the nerves and nodes and

stayed up all night agonizing with the bacteria. the narrowest

bones lend a cozy space to recline after the day's work is done

stitching up the myelin sheath when its insides become outsides.


so from where do these unkindnesses come? does a god

have the chance to look and disagree with the insides of life? i

should like to crawl in through the inner ear of some deity and

reorganize the bases and acids until they metastasize into

something much more difficult than they could have imagined. it

should be true that god is faulty the same way we are: wired

into codes and projected into programs that disassemble at the

slightest of provocations.


i don't pretend to know the code to the program, but it

seems unimaginable that anyone could have written it this way.