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Inside The Word



There is the word, but what is
inside the word is not the word.
Nor, funnily enough, is it the thing.
As our periphery is too arbitrary to be us,
so does the word exist only as a distortion
of what it contains, which is why
it is almost completely free,
as are we, not to do, but to be.
But there is the word, each word,
as many as time will allow,
and though time is not a word
there is a word for time,
as there is a word for everything
(as it is needed), even a word for word.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.