The words have no words
For what to say to themselves
About the world without words.
The words understand something.
They may lie in wait
As strings of ones and zeroes,
As alphabets, syllabics,
Elegant hieroglyphics,
Or they may float on the air,
But they’re a temporal art.
They express themselves in time.
Words know how time works through us.
No place is a place.
Every place is a weapon.
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