How does a word taste?
Does it crunch or crumble?
Is it fluid enough for poems
Or foundation material to lay essays on
Or the billowy ephemerata of dreams?
Does a word skip over bumpy, gravel roads
Like ‘rambunctious’
Or lie low and take the long view
Like ‘perspective’?
Will it make a point like ‘dot’
Or continue to ‘swiggle’ in mouth and mind?
Poems are craft
But poets are daft.
from Common Ground by Alice Anna Reese
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