I finally and suddenly wrote enough.
My words were tired
Of my excuses and subterfuge.
First, they let me out of the maze,
Then they said: We are tired of being used
Against each other.
They said: You clearly don't understand us.
But you don't have to move away or die.
They said: Just leave us alone for a while.
Out of the maze I was more lost than ever.
I watched my words get naked.
They opened the stops,
Threw open the wide gates,
There was going to be a jamboree.
Colorful, joyful, fierce, crazy . . .
Words flocked from everywhere!
They trampled the chain-link fence.
Hungry, backwards, dancing, flying words
Riding on elephants and ostriches. Little words
Riding on the shoulders of larger words,
Playing exotic homemade instruments --
Drums, bamboo flutes, marimbas and kazoos.
And they were generous.
A kind little word invited me in, assuring me:
There is a place saved just for you.
I wore a beautiful hat, a flowing scarf and face-paint.
I showed up with high expectations.
My ticket was a favorite old word.
All I had to do was say it and I was in.
(I think the word was "whittle" or belfry".)
There, on a dais,
In the middle of a tired-looking field
Of muddy trampled grass was the OED.
My word-ticket became a bird
Which flew from my mouth.
It dove into the OED.
There was an explosion of words.
A swarming cloud of a million words rose up
To form a cyclone of confetti
Which sprouted dragon wings
And flew away
Cavorting beyond the thousand-mile sea,
Disappearing over the yellow,
Blue, green and silver-misted mountains
Of everything I would never write.
I picked up my pen and smiled.
The eyes of all my words were on me.
The jamboree had begun.