Poet in the Post: Linsanity

Consider what's below my raw response to Jeremy Lin's game against the Lakers, while my post at TFT is the clarification:

Tornadoes rise like this out of cracks in the floorboards
and from underneath pantry doors--
crumbs swirling with dust bunnies and prairie dogs--
blowing down houses, tearing down power lines,
stripping paint off billboards, and wrecking Main Street:
smiling lightning and clenching thunder as it kills you
and then doesn't even take credit for the plunder.
How can such sudden winds rebuild a franchise?


Weathermen chart storms--watch potential gather
over the Gulf into a Tropical Storm, into a
hurricane, and name the damn thing Jeremy.
Wait and see if the damn thing keeps churning,
keeps carving up ocean Leagues, keeps spitting
up accolades for all the temperatures and currents
that went into the precise moment when it made landfall,
causing mass migrations and bandwagons
that Twitter up the interstates and make Harvard
something other than dull.

Bamboo sprouts on a basketball court,
thick as a rainforest, where species walk
and breathe and fly everyday
without names to call them by.