I Would Like Words

I would like words

to stand up
with what meaning can do
for any mind,
to activate and reveal

those inner electrical

contortionisms . . .
What is that brain flurry

set off by words?
Words . . . upon hearing

or directly thought,
and then there in the mind,

in some nanosecond registry

and onto response.
Right there,

before utterance in return,
possibly before verbal assembly,

there is the exercise
of discreet unseen

operational rules,
before conversing emerges.
With words,

it is so passé within the brain,
even before

understanding’s salivation.
Sure there is this loiter

of topic within us,

some things we all hold

as always in plain view.
But also

there are all these other

embellishing aspects.
To take word delivery

and input the fanfare of speech
for how is something

that is so automatic

but also so veiled
by concealing methods of beyond

or beneath or behind.
What we have agreed to

is obscured beyond belief.
In that we agree to agree,

there is no challenge to it in practice.

Understanding may bring forth

a challenge to meaning as shared.

I would like words
but I want conveyance

out of conversation.
Maybe speaking in tongues

is all I am asking.

I want confluence as a stream,

by what a person is saying

into a hologram of shared presence

for there and then.
I want no more description
and less understanding

as an end repose.
I want more internal raptness

from what is externally said.
This is not to get agreement

to agree with what words said.
This is be there

and empathetically tone-blend

within it back.

It is not asking for collusion

but more so collectively concurrent.

Words are capable droplets,

working towards

a co-shared fluid state.

Always a yes with words,

as a fountaining,

wet with what sound bestows,
towards a torrential rain

with the senses submerging
towards one pooling,

with no additions

from a linear sense
just pooling,

as it continues towards

humanity as ocean.

I would like words.
I do not want to settle for

cups or bowls or bottles full.
I want amphibious-like empathy
instead of self-consciousness.
I want the oxygen and hydrogen gods
of our chemical watery makeup
to tell the story,

yet within words
but for us

to not settle for wordiness,

to not reside

in the residue of meaning
as if it is of a substance

like a self-imposed

limiting metaphor,

or the impotence of understanding

based on the meaning of words.

I would like words . . . then.