Words we have cherished
(truth-freedom-beauty-God)
seem now abstract,
filleted from life’s tenderloin,
leaving a hunger
for more, newer voices
that flow from what we know
yet don’t know we know,
words we can squeeze,
gulp their juices,
leaving aside pulps, rinds
then ferret out fresher
nouns, verbs,
brisk enough
to wrap themselves around
the what that we do,
the who that we are,
the what that is done to us,
hefty enough
to lift our inner meanings,
lay them on plates
of friends and strangers
whose savvy seems to matter.

Tom Keene
August 25, 2011