#406 - words (another poem about & called)

 

5.ii.21

406

2.36

words

 

for Steve Armstrong (part of our conversation)

 

 

a swim in the self, see

long shelved to life

 

open the book and out they fly

still sometimes cannot read them

 

words are inhabited time

some only seem to be

but ours and anyone’s

play possum

…

 

choose!

they dare the very lips

and other apparatus

 

of blessing, of curse

each interrupting other

no one has the last

 

dog tugs, rolls in them

cat brings home

 

binned words

and later, in an ideal world

fallen over the page in arrows

words snuck around a corner

lit off for my limits

 

you don’t have to picture what’s on the cards

with words it’s another story

 

come heartfirst into the jungle thereof

how often wasted on a prayer

 

go nose to arse along

 

and still I find my name among them

fresh for an eternity

as if I were now, just now, called

 

words built as they are broken

must have been meant

must

call on them

and to account

(finest print ever)

 

a little dance they do

 

trap of light, be my intended

 

days, lives lost to these mere tricks

 

call each one out – a lie