Try you not
To dissect my fishy words
Their entrails are important-
Although they stink
Like rotten death,
They carry me from day to day.
And like the surfaces beneath my feet
Their differences support me.
And do not speak
Of those footprints wet and mucky,
Or those whose bottomless gulf
Could trip the life right out of me
And send me reeling someplace
Where words and feet are preposterous
And I'd have to become
A baby all over again
