A nerve half atrophied,

Erupts with sensation in the summer breeze.
All stifled thoughts arise yet again,
As if from the very dregs of the ether;
Sticky in the humid air,
Phosphorescent and ever shifting,
Like every word that tumbles forth.
 A ripple on the bubbles surface,
An oil slick turned rainbow in honey afternoon,
A fist full of ashen sand,
A foot skewered by oxidized nails,
A branch of wood hewn with worm language,
A statue marbled with pyrite veins.
Each tongue-tip burdened with fleeting meanings,
Never quite getting caught in the seive.