a word comes,
and do you know it?
have you perceived it much?
have you been within
the embrasure of its
flared walls?
or walked through its ensemble--
the robed meal of it,
the silken and profuse
excellence of its livid body?
a word is a vagrant.
it passes the lips,
and into the world
(roots, nettle, and tine)
becoming within each thing
it moves, the hulking arousal
of vibrant self.
or it is some inept smallness.
mumbled erstwise the flawed
****** of a dumb mouth.
it tumbles,
relaxes,
being the body
and the root of the body.
a word is the flesh,
and the kiss of a wife;
the small depression
of a child's heart,
pressed swiftly
between canale
and capillary
into perfuse
exhaustion
of running laughter.
a word is the foamed sea,
washed over each grain,
until smoothness pervades.
a word is the grass,
threshed underfoot.
easing of its body
some tender
moisture.
a word comes and uncomes.
how have you known it?
and does it become you?
come into a word
and the earth will
enumerate you.
it will become the everything of your self:
the namechild,
and hand within--
the flexed carousing
of your muscles,
and folded effusion
of thy clattering laughter.