words that are undersaid,
those that are given,
those that take too much
words that don’t want
to be said, to remain,
words not part of the scene

words that leap out of your head
drop onto the street
and are paved over
by silent machines plying asphalt,
identified with illegible script
that makes them appear official,
while clearly resembling nothing,
the idea of meaning
projected, not found, in them

words taken out of circulation
often lose their meaning
foolishly hide somewhere
to be safe for another day
when they might be forgotten
and return with new meaning
instead they become ghost words
all that connects their syllables to
the river of words washes away
they drift, pale shadows on white pages
hidden in plain view

words can be found in trees, the sky
no one knows what they are
nature writes but cannot read
there is no word for that

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