WORDS

We shall now connect

The way words do connect

Like the shoe flower

Connects to the shoe in mid air

Thrown by somebody someday

At nothingness or a mirage

That you can still make out

Or not.

One places words next to each other

And maybe thinks that they would connect

With decorum forming chains that run along

Continuous, rhythmic or not

But one also know that sometimes the same word

Would connect to another 
Somewhere at the other end

Of the text 
Or even with another text, altogether different

Like a distant friend or cousin

Becoming a close acquaintance

And a close neighbor, friend or relative

Moves apart.

Words with their rhyzomatic spread

Connecting and reconnecting

Always on the move

Never being entirely poisoned

By association or breaking up

Never growing too attached to each other

So that they fail to reconfigure

Connect differently, move on

Not to bear its own dead body

For too long a time

To live on

In different sentences, stanzas, paragraphs, works

So shall we be, I presume,

Moving on, but not totally excluding

The possibility of reunions in mid-flight

When the togetherness becomes necessary

And bearable, and in fresh ways

But as to how is not entirely predictable

Because a word itself

Always places itself at the service of meaning, rhythm,

Function or disjunctures

And it never can remain singularly held

In the same constellation for ever

Without ruining itself

Whatever be it.