#1322 - a way of the word

 

1322

15.viii.23

4.228

a way of the word

 

everything could be

maybe was once

 

the words that were

not as we remember

 

take ‘leaf’, take ‘tree’

you’ll swallow this

 

words have to be found

won’t come to find you

 

all that back forth

ghosts are singing

 

and there’s the sun in some

words fall over each other to be

 

call them a procession

 

vinegar and hill, brown paper

over fences, washing lines

they come with every meal

 

spent clock in each

a cymbal clash

cadence caught

remain so

 

there’s many a groan

words stretch to break

 

every word a journey

as conch with so many seas inside

each wrecked, still hear the gale

 

the unspoken strongest still

and come to the unspeakable

 

balance tongue tip too

lost for and among

 

a tune and story frozen

each in its grammar a bone

 

they’re seeds bent out of soil we are

 

it’s not at all obvious the way they will go

and who will argue with them?

 

all!

 

first thing that comes into my head

and then words fall apart

 

things gone may yet remain so

 

there’s no one born to this

all are borne along

 

and some blank wordless left

ellipsis!

some descended into laughter

 

as much in anger as in

often unintelligible

 

someone put them all in a book

the buggers got away

 

they’re wanted

 

they are where you are right now

 

you’ll find me just among them here

just mucking about

bit buried too

 

always only fooling