by Robert Priest


In the middle of the word I find you all alarmed with word in your eyes, and you see the word in mine and instantly our words collide. In other words we want to word. We want to word till our lips are sore. We want to stroke one word against another till the friction almost hurts. But there’s a thrill moment so twinned in the two of us it can't at first escape. It just vibrates in the web, a radar a-tremble with word word word. The two of us, a wedge of words, tipped into the nick of night, opening up the first edge of a word like dawn, moving the word, soothing the word, grinding the word slowly, mortar and pestle till our words briefly are not separate -- all previous words just prep for this wanton rude word we both uncover sacredly in the bare glare of tungsten irradiated -- an irrational word a brainless seamless word between us like a mutual body part we both feel shiver. The word has never been this contained this stretched with itself we say with awe. We want to scream the word out. We want to linger on its longest syllable, giving my word into yours as you give yours into mine in precise, pitch-perfect patterns -- words that enter as they open. Receptive words. Crazy words. You are the word that waited a life time, stuffing itself with wrong words, linking up with the worst in language, waiting for what i bring in my mouth, you thought you had meaning before, you thought you made sense but you were just half a sentence. I was just a dot dropped off a question mark till you joined me up with the well word -- the water word that fills itself with itself and is drunk by itself, drained dry and drunk again and again for ever. Who knew we could fit in each other's lives like this, word inside word inside word, this word which always thought it was 'exile' which always thought it was the shut-out the stranger in the long house. This word which is only infinite so i can word you from alternating endless angles of entry till we pop the clocks and the sun drops down exhausted on the limited night, words like waves still lapping at one another. dynamite-like words blowing one another up, flack-words blasting us back into the word gravity our spines pressed tight to the weight of the word like leaves in a book. a word and a word whispering the word for word, "word word word word," in long stunned sighs, totally utterly worded speechless. '