I am words

I am the ship
that sits beyond the continental slope,
that plays a hundred score feet
with clams and shellfish.
I kissed the pacific iceberg
and tossed hope and its worshippers
into the cold, dark, deep-blue.

I am the feather,
that clung to the fir
and made the swallow's projeny
fall, become the dust
trampled by fleeting buffalos.

I am the big-bellied ruler
whose bed is paper,
necklaced in coins
bathe in people's sweat
scooping in their tasty phlem
serenading in melodious curses.

I am the heart,
that went silent
so that the bragging of the brain
movement of the mouth,
the appaling smooching of foreign hands
would cease to exist.

I am the lust,
that settles with the falling sun
and vanishes with the flirting dusk
that makes love to love
and birthing vanity.

I am a failure
lacking the frame to stand firm
lacking the life to kill death
having the power to be all,
but choosing to be nought,
I am words.