Chicano Poet

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

A Poet’s Obsession

I cover myself in words
they are hollow

there is an echo
of wooden walls

I lie like an insect in here
feeding

thinking a word belongs only
in the flesh

a sound’s caught by chance outside
I am on the beach

in a sea of words
I utter foam

my cloak
soaked

my voice
crawling

to think merely words
make us

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