What sense could be made of this mess?
September 9, 2014 § Leave a comment
The window blew a breathy sigh through the open window and toppled the totemic stack of papers. Its collapse was hushed like a secret kept and as sudden as one told. Loose leaves, lined and unlined, fell together and scattered apart. Handwritten letters, whose tonguey loops lapped up the blanks below and licked down everything left above, bent forward, suffering legibility like a mule its load but unable to bear a breeze, spread across the floor like languages at the razed foot of Babel. What sense could be made of this mess?