Her poems are like sound waves they can't help the shape they make arcing, cresting, jagging scores into the sky then crashing into smaller crescendos and puddles refusing to stay still adamantly holding their shape then suddenly relenting into smaller smaller lines Then it HITS, her thoughts They rip through the message finally clear not even sure how my brain processes these tiny wave forms not really sure how these shapes make me feel not sure how the words can drift into my head and make me feel something anythi ng . . .
This is just an idea I had as I was leaving the house. Definitely needs more work.