My backward words

 Words run backwards into a fuzzy glass instead of
pouring out of it into the ears of those who paid 
Those who forgot the meaning of them
were reminded and recovered

Words of inspiration that humm through thoughts
electricity through live wire
Words run through the open street
Raining down from a million poets

All incoherent and inconsequential
The years spray their bad breath 
Their slurrs at being ignored
As if they held no value

Words never described them well enough
And those forgotten times
They creep up on us faintly at first
Then grip our daily lives

Words that lull us into a sense of wonder
Distract us from the baseline anxieties
These words I write that fall backwards
through screens and reading glasses