Thursday, July 3, 2008

The paper storm

swirls over me in frenzied
silence,
its mind-numbing flood
of words threatening
to break the dikes
of my tendon-stretched
comprehension
at any sweat-stained moment.
It hurls ideas at me like
multicolored, disembodied
bricks, and bashes me
with vicious squalls
of hot-blooded assertion,
storm-driven little factoids
that drive themselves into my brain
like straws in an oak tree,
and tsunamis of
half-blind visions
and quick little glimpses
of the descending sacred.
As the eye passes over me,
I plot my strategy for
snatching pieces from it
quickly enough
to make my stand
before I am no longer able
to stand at all,
and to give my account of its
garbled message
before I have no voice left
to express it.

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