A Vigil for Dead Words

Thoughts and ideas painted on tea paper

emptied of spices and fermented leaves—

those dry divinations—

fly skyward as they burn,

a flock of words on phoenix wings.

Make up a word.

Imagine what it means.

Chase it, pin it down, let it go—

cat and mouse—play with it.

Just keep in mind that living things like words

will outgrow you. Like a teenage son,

all elbows and peach fuzz.

It will move out, make mistakes, and fall in love.

It will grow old, retire to a page on a shelf, seldom read. Soon,

it's only uttered as a novelty,

this gray old man of a word.

Imagine all of that,

and write down your word.

Add it to the dictionary of All Words Ever—

that unspeakable sum.

Now set your word on fire. Watch it burn.