The word is exquisite
you can taste it in layers
like an onion.
Tears his presence.
It is made of clay, kneaded by hand.
It's a whirlwind in the throat,
impudent snorting.
craft room,
where the wind tastes and seasons,
breakers claim to be heard,
be broken down in the ear cavity.
It will come with another force, in another fall.
Identity is in question
the same one and different,
again and again announces the arrival,
the echo is evident and I welcome.
Repetition has the gift of distinguishing
the identical in flight, is volatile,
trill in the branches and in the mind.
Repetition has the gift of distinguishing,
the hollow sound that leaves its mark,
the verse savors the term, reiterates it,
enjoy the time diluted in the voice.
What is annoying?
Does the cacophonous result disturb good taste?
Is that child abnormal?
Repetition has the gift of distinguishing.
In it is the time travel.
In it is the power to discern,
of dissection of a molecule,
absorption of substances
that tint the universe,
the power to discern, even your stupidity.