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A Word

from Wolfram H by Wolfram H

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A word. I need a word. To explain how a bird without feathers or a beak is still a bird. A word. I need a word. To speak through the haze of lacking and false nomenclatures. One word would be enough to pass the crop, then embrace the idea of cognizance irrespective of place. I need a tongue that speaks the truth. That rhymes, that roars, that fully ignores all the coarse definitions that obstruct my view of the world. I need a word, not polemics. I need a word so true and pure it hurts, that denies definitions and defines my birth. One word. Just one word. I know it exists, I heard it once spoken from the top by a neon queen calling out for her dying sons. Her voice drowned out in a sullen scene. The first-born son in a dressing gown cried for help as he crossed the rail. The second one owned the town dealing out shots of liquid fail. I claim to be the third one down, D.O.A. as mother pressed. I stood perplexed by the foreign sound. For sixteen weeks motionless. I must confess I burst out in tears and ran as far as I could run. Fell fatigued on the stone-slabbed floor in front of brother Bragi's door. Desorbed and clean on the cold, that's where I lie growing old. I would regain the flame of yore, but I'm in desperate need for a word.

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from Wolfram H, released August 1, 2011

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