Merging into Traffic on the Freeway of Screams

how can you unlock the core of radiance when the shine just streams on by you? how can you pry open the rainbow’s spectrum?— when all the colors untwine and gyre in the desert dull dust devils? how can you inlay the jeweled light in the dead squid’s eyes? you know you can’t but you can’t stop trying anyway.

can you call out "Lazarus!"—and have a dead man walk out alive from his crypt? if once I had the scream to do it, I no longer have it today.

the individual screams merge into traffic in the great freeway of screams— there is no fast lane on the freeway of screams— all wails crawl at snail’s pace out of our mouths. we cannot bar them access to the breath that sounds when the gasping sob comes up from the depths of the sea of many swimming screams, the wails take off horizontally up the shriekway.

soon the screams will break the sound barrier and all that will be left will be a living mouth, open in the Emil Nolde oval model of a mouth in the silent scream

all the decibels in the world will never make up for—or drown out— the anguish of one death