Thursday, January 24, 2013
So much writing to do this week! My head is spinning!
The Word
In the beginning was the word.
The seed inside the forbidden fruit--
so deadly, so delectable,
so ripe, so fertile.
So divine.
Set to multiply like a germ in plague--
to swarm and scatter
or to align in battalions
for a brave and steady march.
Great dense words braced like stones in a wall
Or words poised in fragile arabesques like dragonflies
balancing the petal's quivering lip.
Words that slice and tear and gnaw and sting.
Bludgeoning words hurled like bricks.
Words like a blanket,
a tourniquet,
a vise.
Words painstakingly selected
then faceted, polished and placed,
or those rough hewn,
or prized from the moist earth
like pungent truffles.
Pale, skinny, scared words
or those fat, self-satisfied and certain.
Words to be fiddled with.
Words to be forged.
Words set like candles in a window
or left to mark a trail like bread crumbs.
Sticky tar-black words
and those crystalline and clean.
Those deperate ones seeping, steaming, bubbling--
bursting through any crusty fissure--
Or those distilling soft and silent as dew.
Words sturdy and plain and true as plow mules,
or the sneaky ones that slither and rustle
through the corn.
In the beginning was the word.
The curse.
The prayer.
The seed.
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Now this is an excellent poem.
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