September 11, 2011 § 2 Comments
An intense urge to create is common to several characters in this assembled-sentence universe. One of them speaks:
I am not prepared to go to sleep
Facing a barrage of inspirations,
An epidemic of attracting distractions.
While it lasts, I write, five hours, without meaning to,
At the mercy of beautiful fragmentary symbols,
A pattern, a sort of language, indecipherable;
Mesmerizing messages, flying, resembling wings.
This is how I feel sometimes, too.