an email i received today.



i hate "spoken word". what words are not spoken? spoken in tongues, in glances, in fists gripping hair, in teeth clenching, in winks, in sobs, in hiccups of laughter. words are kites. meaningless without the breath of wind, force of un/intentional communication. i see words, "spoken" ones, around me, moving and pulsing.



words are photons. they are packets of light, waves of thought. out in a flip of a switch or smile, spewing across overcrowded lawns filled with hungry minds. or, perhaps, they shine and sparkle intermittently - flashes of light on choppy water-falling and flowing out of the blind street poet's mouth as he jingle's his cup.



busy busy busy busy.



i hear and hate the pretentiousness of "spoken word". as if those words that are not stated, shouted, screamed, or slutted out somehow are less than light. less than the power that they carry on their backs, as they zip from heart to head, tongue to mouth, to eyes, to touch. what of child's first cry of pain?



"spoken word" artists like to think themselves special. because they can speak words while humming a tune? because they can rhyme and not at the same time? because they cannot sing and cannot rap, cannot carry the weight of a pen's might or a scream of un-orchestrated pain? because they know that the only words that are not spoken are the one's without inspiration?



hilarious no? i love it.