WORDS
Words ride on sound-waves Across smoky rooms and satellites They carve out keys That unlock underground rivers And spark dry flints Into fires that buzz Hum and ignite ideas Through towns and continents We must use them well Words that are lightweight skitter Over the surface of a lake Skimming the depths that carry them Or tumble from the jar Convention requires us to keep Ready-filled Like sweets Wrapped in bright colours Words heavy with overuse Deaden the hymn to What matters to us most And make it a thing Purchased on special offer Bulk buy at the chainstore Vitality crushed By their limp weight Words that are barbs From which weapons hang Well-oiled and ready For the unthinkable Adorn word palaces Made of chicken wire Listen to the wind whisper The lie through empty holes As the edifice slinks and bends With the tide Cling to words as you cling to life When they lose their essence We no longer feel The world dislocates And falls out of joint With itself Line them up, slow and deliberate Lay a path we can walk on Stones, carefully chosen on a shingle beach Layered and shaped by the tide Drawn from the bedrock of history Where word and being are one
Mud at the wall 