words are falling off the page scurrying on the floor blackly now surging along the base of the wall making their way to the outside clambering over leaves climbing up trees cluttering around a dead insect clinging to grass blades
the page is clean i am free! you are free of meaning
but what of the words? some day when the sky is full of bulbous clouds and the breeze is playing with the tops of coconut trees when black-naped orioles are tuning the afternoon to the right pitch I'll step out gently to gather them and weave them into a basket.