A Category Five Reality

Whirling shards
roiling around the core;
the hurricane
of tornados twisting
so many fragments,
flashing thought,
echoed feelings,
descriptive snatches
torn from any continuity.
My mind
and the maddening
matrix that made it.
Shit and shinola
fact and fiction
smoke and mosaic
mirrors, always shifting;
the angles and dangles
juxtaposing
every juxtaposition
endlessly.
All of it roaring,
at the tearing away
and crashing into
thin membranes of cognition.
And still
connections are made.
That miracle all
the more maddening
by all of floundering
to articulate
a small thread of understanding
out of all of the chaos,
which itself flutters
away in the torrent.
Can it ever be
caught
by another mind
to stitch together
a common weave
to hold
something shared?
A way to meaning
we can agree to?
Take the turn
of what we toil
to boil
in what we know
accelerating
off the electric burner.
To find the calm
within the eye
that sees a better vision
of how to find
and make our way?