He thrusts
his words out
into the world
like shotgun shells
bares
his fists
his soul with
every statement
every s-s-syllable
a two-ton weight
against the posts
inside his tired lungs
tongue tied in knots;
but he has things
he wants to say,
and still insists
these tangled terms
these stumbled, tumbled
phrases hold worlds of their own
and in their spaces
he sees the ghosts.
he hears himself,
loud and clear.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Written for the Poetic Asides Poem-A-Day Challenge, Day 1:
http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2012-april-pad-challenge-day-1
And so it begins, again. An April Fool, in love with words…
I love this:
“these tangled terms
these stumbled, tumbled
phrases hold worlds of their own
and in their spaces
he sees the ghosts”
And oh wow, that ending. Haunting indeed.
As a former stutterer, I could really relate. Brilliant form… the poem within the poem.