floating and leaving no trace
i glow
i am a furnace
hot and steel-forging
and the blades i produce
make damascus weep
each word an edge
each word a razor so fine
it slices my tongue as it
leaves my mouth
i quench my blades
my words
in the cool water of you
in the satisfying draughts
of your eyes
of your words
which are sheaths to my own
everything can use a little editing
a gentle stroke of the pen
to make
what does come out
what should come out
–wait, i didn’t mean that–
would never be uttered again
because everything would be composed
pored over
marked up
submitted as galleys
and approved
before the words pass
carrying less weight
perhaps for the extended process
conversations would stretch
for days
and saying i love you
would take from the first glimpse
of morning sunlight
to when the full moon sinks below
the horizon
the birds exercise their right
to be silent today
avoiding the feeders
and the yard in general
like an apocalypse
en media res
and i didn’t get the memo
the sky is so blue
what kind of blue
what word to replace blue
such a simple set of four letters
but none of the synonyms appeal
it’s blue blue blue
it’s clean-clear, almost white
it’s blue like a transparent
layer of skin that can be peeled back
revealing a host of sword-wielding angels
but are there any other kind?
even angels of mercy carry scalpels
in their tongues
and their words cut away the dead weight
the dying weight
paring you down so that you can fly
like them with hollow bones
silent mouths
you have the right to remain–
word after word is the
word is the only
after word the only way to
word after
get everything down
word after word after that
sticks in your throat like
word after like
word after a bad simile
that sorta kinda
word after after after
word word works
waiting for the sound
of the previous word to finish
waiting for the sound
to form the beginning of the next
watching the mouth shape the sound
the lips open
the lips round
the tongue moves
the teeth glisten
the jaw works
and the word emerges
silence
sound
silence
an eternity between words
unbearable as a distance
that can be measured
but not compressed
—
inspired by this poem and a comment i left that germinated
the words dance
as words like to do
like a heartbeat
or a three syllable waltz
one-two-three
one-two-three
one-two-three
the cadence whispered
on everyone’s lips
a chant
a song
a secret
a truth
a magic spell
one-two-three
one-two-three
one-two-three
these words come unbidden
slip from fingers without pause
without time to measure
–measure twice, cut once they say–
but the saw of words cuts
again
and again
and yet again
there is no time to clap your hands
and pray
after the ablution
just toss the money in
the box
and hope the
kami
is patient
and kind
and forgiving of your cheapness
maybe she sees the soles worn down
on shoes you refuse to
replace
maybe she knows how you
wait
each day for 11:11
to come around
to make a wish
for free
if only your doubt would break upon
the rocks
like waves
huge and frightening
a wall of water
reduced to spray and foam
and a scattering of birds.
so impatient and greedy
for words
the reader clicks
and clicks and
clicks
and here they are
a few lines
meant for the hungry reader
lines etched in photons
that disappear
when the window closes
but leave their ghosts
trails on the backs of your eyelids
like fireflies
the night cannot hide
you could feel them
with your fingertips
if you could just
make
it
dark
enough
everything is made of glass
words fall out of my mouth
and break
and shatter
musically against the floor
there was no angry buzzing
no warning that some line
had been crossed
nothing to indicate
a perimeter had been violated
yet every word
flew like a wasp
refusing to die after
delivering its venom
returning again
and
again
Words and Feathers 