Words Poem by Michael Timothy Rose

I am enamored by
Words;
The way they metabolize
My emotions;
The way they
Digest
And perpetuate them throughout
my humanity
(from the vital tissue of my organs to the wiggle of my toes
and to my mind

...sometimes aching in its bones,
Or temperate by its contretemps,
Or Emanating by its joy or exuberance) ,

Or by the way that
The words will stray
Or slide
Down sleek, dark, lowly lit alleyways,
Leave their murky trail behind them like
lost footsteps,
And be found
By any Sherlock Holmes who
Is searching for an answer
And clue and a dusty step
To step in and remember the
“why”
To every step that they tread
and live;
An ocular step
To tell us
Why
We are
All
Words,
All millions and billions of old and contemporizing ideas
Strung chaotically together
In a frenzied deal with life,
then
Somehow
Formed
strings of unsure yarn
In a ball
that tumbles vigorously with gravity and spirit.

And, at least sometimes we are all
Words
In life’s text book definition and
desertification
and
abandon,
...Even in times when we are not
Enamored by the slow,
Slipping slide that they may take
When they leave our dreary minds
And bereft, monotone mouths
in a subtle wisp like a snake
And settle in the grass
(with their wet and trying
Lips) .

I am enamored
By words
And the way, they salivate
And invariably speak
For themselves.