Words are dropping like heavy Autumn rain off of leaves. I walk over them like lily pads, every step a stride over something not said, that liquidy deep.
They lie here tendentially. Bobbing so lightly against the surface of things, skin on a bubble, what can they hold?
They feel heavy, made of water and air, a breath. I test them with “heaviness,” with “weight.” They hold. I try “mountain,” I try “sea.” I heave “sorrow” and “darkness” and “death” into the words. They continue to stick to the surface, though I could not see them underneath.
I step again. Around me the pluck and leave marks, then vanish away.
I step. I have landed on “brick” held fast by the world. It wobbles a bit as if in a thick fluid, but I’ve balanced and am able to stand. I use “house” to shelter and observe. I choose “window” and “bay” and “uncovered” to watch them fall, to try and count them.
How they plop and then slide on each object in my surround. For moments they adhere, just long enough for me to piece them out – “branch” “wagon” “tarp” “barn” “flower” and then they have wriggled on and away, objects identified by attention and sense. Yet the rain of words is steady and all-over-at-once so I cannot take them off-guard, or catch something before its language is there. This is true as well for all of my perceptions.
I smell “must” and “dust” and baking “bread.” Wet “smoke,” “plants,” and “heater fumes,” some I am unable to see,
the sounds of “piano” and “strings” traveling toward me from great distances, invisible, and yet filled up with words.
I step again, into this grey rain.
I am wanting more language to catch on more surfaces, especially the unseeable ones. These “feelings,” “melancholy” and “nostalgia” with “sentiment” and “ennui.” More words please, more details in this downpour: identify “griefs” and these “loves.” I open my arms out wide, hunch over, lean back – where must they fall in order to land on these things I uncover no words for?
“Silvery” “mercurial” and “faint.” “Ominous,” “wistful” and an “obtuse pain.”
Not only. So much more without name in them!
“Molly.” “Wendy.” “Theodore.” “Distance,” “remorseful,” “unrequited” and “maimed.” “Misbegotten,” “disabled,” “mourn of the manufacturer’s defect.” “Insoluble.” “Ineffable.” “Now.”
I lay down. Afloat on the words as the stream together, overlap and cohere. Wide open now, mouth, legs, eyes and arms, rain runneling ears and nostrils, fingers and clothes – saturate me with words, let me hear of it all, all that there is, inward and out –
I am ready to drown – if all might be covered in words.
N Filbert 2011