words buzz and spin in clouds of confused formation
wheeling and turning, penetrating all corners and crannies with all of their information
I can't make sense of the layers; when I go to get a hold, take a grasp, they slip and change
moldable, transformative; not held down by any mortal incantation.
but when I can release them, spilling into concise words, tidy graphite marks on a clean cream sheet
my pencil caressing each curve of every e and c and a like the hands of lovers entangled in sheets
the clamor slows, bringing with it closure; a solidifying of thought, ideas are brought back within graspable range
lines of print or cursive tie down and sudbue the words, small extensions of the confused parts in my head, dimming the fire to a more rational heat.