Sunday, May 15, 2016

Word Hoard

I cling to words,
   collect them, pile them,
     scrounge them from the rubbish.
I cannot let them go -
  yours, mine, the world's -
Every one born of a perilous, toil-filled journey
  along spark-ignited neurons
    through the larynx off the tongue into air,
     through the sinews touching fingers tapping keys
       falling into the black hole of the machine and 
Coming out the other side to rest on the page.

Earthlings, our world overflows with words!
  We cringe as we craft them, battling to build,
     struggling to sculpt, stringing syllables like beads.
We feed one another on their milk.
   We weave them into strong ropes to rescue
      or to hang.

How can I bear to throw away a single one unread? 

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