I overheard my words speaking
Of starvation; of their utter lack
Of most vital nutrients.
I lined them up, and spoke at length:
Of metaphysical fonts, of angles
On glyphs, and their most likely
Audience; I spoke of enjambing
Lines, and they – in unison –
Chanted their reply:
‘Caesura! Caesura!’
I promised I’d try: in hiding, place
A volt, to amuse as the words
Rolled on.
I overlaid my maltreated words
With an echo from times before;
Let a tempest howl between each
Syllable; added strings aplenty
With distortion – for the masses.
I overheard my words speaking
Of moshing metaphors
And slick similes;
Of being part of something sweet:
The world of song
And supporting Music.
