The poem seems to run on its own momentum, like rapids, moving uncontrolled and, unable to be contained, stopped or changed. Following the story the reader, if he/she has stuck to it this long, is pulled into a rollercoaster ride of sounds and images one after the other after the other. The sentences seem to carry on forever with few full stops at the conclusion of an image, but rather one image seamlessly follows another and remains undefined and only fully perceived in relationship to the other. The reader needs to keep moving with the momentum of the rhythm without necessarily being able to understand the details along the way, as if one were being drawn into a chaotic jumble and stream of images, stories and words. One cannot consume it in its entirety.
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