I have a confession. An old habit that I love has come back to my hand, especially when there is a blank margin of paper belly up beneath my pen. It comes subtly and on the drop of a dime. Suddenly striking out, creating bold lines, words, thoughts, entire worlds, all within the now gutted and devoured paper margin.
Yes, I write in the margin, and off to the side, and maybe in between lines of notes. Yes it's addictive, hard to stop and has a way of narrowing my attention, vision and blacks out everything else. I feel almost like a killer in some way, destroying white paper.
And when you are already in the most boring class of your semester, listening to a rant from the teacher that you neither care about nor need to pay attention, the pen just writes of its own accord.
Well here are some products of my experience. Enjoy:
Write a riddle, sing me a song.
Don't look at me, all the day long.
Touch me gently, hold me naught
For I am the worst, when the best is wrought.
Find me a rabbit hole, a snake, a fight.
Lead me away, so I come to the light.
Haunt me lovingly, love me with fear.
Never be there to dry a tear.
Confused I am,
Try to understand.
Think like an avocado.
"Amenable to Social Design..."
Amen to design...
Design your social able amen.
Due to something.
Put two chemicals together,
A purified Human Being.
Feel better about things. Seriously.
Associate negative side effects.
Suffer those side effects.
Do you affect or effect?
As a sunrise is to life, so a waterfall is its road.
We turn, fall, move here to there.
The path is long, sometimes winding and twisted
You must splash onto hard places,
Create grooves, define your place.
Move or be soaked up into immovable soil.
I want warmth, heat, sun.
I need a summer.
Yes a summer... or two.
Sun, grass, smells of growing things.
I need to feel lazy,
Knowing I have time.
Then bottle it all up,
Seal it tight.
For a later date.