A radar countermeasure from before
I drew a breath, a noun that makes me laugh –
is what I think of when you bring me more
minute details – it’s like you scattered chaff
around – my mental air is shot with shot;
the forest is obscured by leaves and limbs.
My search for resolution is forgot
as concepts metamorphose into whims.

Like colored ribbons tied to cherry trees,
like twists of soda cans released to read
the heart of hurricane, cacophonies
that swamp ideas and nits of thought succeed
in making mental murk for me: a cloud
of lousy chaos, and I shout aloud.