Word Mire

there is too much
written
that only scratches the surface of it
like the cats claws picking
shredding cashmere as if it were
an old rug

too many words
written
that only pretend passion
like roadside clay jars
imitating ancient Greek
vases


there are so many words
written
that define verbosely beauty
 sprayed out like tobacco spit
dried on the edges of a saloon
cuspidor

there are too many words
written
that I must wade through
fighting mundane currents
insipid tidal pools spawning
muck

there are too many words
written
around those few gems, crystals
that find their way through the morass
and glisten delicate hues of
you

there are too many words
written
that must be read
and I have lost
the time
the patience
the heart
to read my way to you
now