It comes from talking too fast.
Words from thought spill through
me. I am unadorned with
punctuation. I write in long
lines of ideas switching from
one to another like trestles.
Some thoughts get stuck or are
trapped under wheels. They rub
me clumsily.
I speak only English in a stomach
churning speed. To tell you how
beautiful you are takes pages and
curls of rushing lines.
I am a jumble of ideas out loud.
A scorch of syllables. I digress
of course. I am a stumble of
sounds, a cataract of meanings.
Listen to the scrape of pen, the
words enlighten,emerge, into
conversation.
Caroline Shank
6.8.2023