Live Poetry

These cheerful words that in my mind do sing Are not yet spoke, nor writ, and are no thing. But I will pause before I give them life (By cutting cord with working teeth for knife). My tongue swells, my lungs do halfway burst, To be real things my happy words have thirst. Compressed, my lips, my squeezing throat constrains; The fetus-words throb up against my veins. My hands seek for computer keyboard, pen--- Oh, how they ache to make a thing again! How now! I speak! These feet of verse kick free! I am that soaring flame----live poetry!