I had a vision of myself today
while striding angrily to catch a train.
I seemed to rise above and watch, the way
approachers to their deaths and back explain.
I saw me as a radiating form,
my feet in rhythmic push against the ground,
my heart a fountain of indignant storm,
my brain emitting cataracts of sound.

I wondered once how altered life would be
if farts made little clouds that we could see
(imagine tiny puffs of green or puce).
Well, now an image similar is loose:
of detonation, overflowing out
of me, as motion and emotions shout.