i do not need petrol
metals coal
hammers nails
pipes or cement
only the syllables of my tongue
that have shaped over
centuries and continents
centuries and continents
to land right here in my mouth
i do not need anything more
my mouth is my factory and my trading post
the crane of my tongue
the pliable walls of my cheeks
the grinders of my teeth
the exhaust of my throat
the ventilation of my nose
and the proud arch of my palate
that oversees the whole pulsing production line
no greater poet’s joy!
with only this one mouth
i make my world come alive
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