Saturday, April 15, 2006

Remember whats broken

Three is the magic number.

Windy afternoons.

Monday, April 03, 2006

I love the way you found me.

Cell block three.

Mystery girl.



I like words on paper.

I like the letters that make up the words.

I like the rough, messy, smooth, straight art of words.

I like black on white, blue lines, red border.

I like soft college ruled recycled paper or clean crisp white printer paper never before been touched.

Paper Wrapped in paper.

Paper on paper.

Or wrapped in thin clear plastic suffocation.

Paper or plastic?

I like the way letters are formed and then formed into words.

Pretty words.

Words that look nice to write.

I like ‘enjoy’.

I like the shortness of the e and n, and o and the long tails of the j and y.

I enjoy it.

I like filled pages in only my hand writing, my font.

I like to see the once empty page filled with my story.

I like words that follow the lines, or words that wiggle all over the paper.

I like the way the words change into sentences, a short description of my love for words.

I like the way sentences change, morph, evolve into paragraphs, essays.

I like the words feel on my tongue, melting like chocolate, sliding down my throat into my body, my soul.

I like the way words sound.


I like how they sit on my mind like a good book or rhyme.

But mostly, I like words on paper.

Cardboard paper word dolls.

Words I can change, I can play with.

I can cross out shift around, move and make.

I like to be able to control words.

To make then my own.