Heavy tongues laden
with brutal, baroque words;
I lose time among them,
must heave them to the sides
of this trail I’m forced to build.
I don’t have
the breath for this.
I don’t have
the heart to tell the language
to shorten and purify.
Not to suggest that
there is no value
to the thicket.
Not to suggest
that there are no spells
that work better magic through
extension and complexity.
As much beauty as I can find
from time to time
in that tangle
more can be found
in the spare land
beyond it;
I am older now,
weary from wordplay,
and what I seek most
from a journey now
is destination.
