Word Mire
there is too much
written
that only scratches the surface of it
like the cats claws picking
shredding cashmere as if it were
an old rug
too many words
written
that only pretend passion
like roadside clay jars
imitating ancient Greek
vases
there are so many words
written
that define verbosely beauty
sprayed out like tobacco spit
dried on the edges of a saloon
cuspidor
there are too many words
written
that I must wade through
fighting mundane currents
insipid tidal pools spawning
muck
there are too many words
written
around those few gems, crystals
that find their way through the morass
and glisten delicate hues of
you
there are too many words
written
that must be read
and I have lost
the time
the patience
the heart
to read my way to you
now
now
I wonder if at least part of it is the difficulty of encapsulating living experience in words. Words are a bit like pebbles coated in oil: there is a concreteness to them, a fixed range of potential meaning, but they are also infamously slippery and hard to catch or to hold onto.
ReplyDeleteIn other words (!), the act of telling a truth is also, very often, an act of falsehood at the same time, if for no other reason than the limitations of our perceptions and the limited amount of time we are given for conveying those perceptions.
And, yes, I am painfully aware that this is far from being the whole story.
I have to admit, Kim, I am a lover of the written word, or the heard word, or words in any form. But your words make magic of words, simply.
ReplyDeleteLoved the playfulness of this one!
Nevine
David - thanks for thinking here. i recommend it. :)
ReplyDeleteNevine - your words are kind and your visit always welcomed. i enjoyed playing with this one, too.