what we eat comes from our roots
if we stop sharing there will be nothing
‘Whole Lot’, Ellen van Neerven
We wake in the morning and there
are words. We shake off our dreams,
words scattering to the floor. Words
crunch underfoot. We flick the word
on. Words look back at us in the mirror.
We swirl words in our mouths, and spit.
Words go down the drain. Words have cut
us. See: we are scarred by words. Outside,
the sky is heavy with words. People open
umbrellas and words bounce off them.
We are walking bareword in the rain.
We are getting worded to our very skins.
We breathe words. We search for the right words.
We grow and feed words. We will never stop words.