In the brain I met someone educated. I spoke to this person who is educated. In the brain I spoke about unbrained things hormones and children nursing and nights without a child in the bed. Sleeping. I spoke about sleeping and in the brain I left our conversation. I went home to undress my things hormones and children and night. In the blue and undressing bed I thought of Jacob or who was it that slept with a rock as a pillow? Things I learn in passing these reeds and tendrils. He put his head on a rock at night and perhaps he would never dismiss the educated. So I think about education and that’s as far/then muse whether the rock was speckled or black, rounded or granite, saw-toothed. And does the padding of hair scalp skin and blood laid upon a rock, pulse? Surely. I feel sad for the blood swelling and bruised scalp but not for the man, who was it? So much I don’t know I have burned myself into a bed corner lights out, badly brainished.