My Word
my word stands
askanced- sliced through
a sliver of vision
darting curiously
amongst meaning-
leaning against
edges, growling in
hungry whispers-
plucks its own feathers-
burns its own whiskers-
intention is minute made
invention- a testament to
time- to rhyme, echoes
of thought meaning nothing,
meaning everything- to
unfold sense, the sting of
understanding, the hopped
fence- my word wanders,
plunders, evokes, lights
up the spirit & tokes
Copyright © Rachel Hart | Year Posted 2010
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