Healthy

I see the venerable old masters,
Struggling goldsmiths of words,
I have heard paranoid, unknowable ravings.
Wild eyes, wild words, protect the brain's savings,
and I see the genius,
and I see the illness.

Then I look at myself,
See what's not by anyone else:
The ideas in dimensions divine by absurd,
Conceived in secret grace, so awkward
In words,
See the things I say, think, cannot make right,
Foul words I use, wishes someone might die,
A tongue digging graves that might make mountains fly,
and I see the genius
and I see the illness.

and I see
That I've never been, will never be
Healthy,
Only sick differently.