There is something special about
a lined page of paper from a notebook.
The parameters are all set –
Uniform equality of margin, space and lines,
but when it is marked with ink,
all formats become null and void of their existence.
And are no longer adhered to, at least by me.
This is how I see that page,
then I find reason to make an imprint,
which at times gets erased, but more likely
gets additional markings of ink doodles.
Circles are drawn around words
to be used somewhere else in the draft.
Lines stretch to where they are
better suited to make sense.
Writing a story or poem or love letter,
often finds that I’m not satisfied with my initial inkings,
and rather than start over with a fresh page,
I create these,
almost hidden to the non-composer’s eye,
It would be a high order,
to take on the markings I make
to make sense of them.
That is why I haven’t hired someone
to take dictation, or lease a stenographer for the afternoon,
or even still, harass an Editor!
Part of this dance is that I am in charge
from thought to thought to conclusion.
When the musics stops,
and I am fulfilled and satisfied with my mind’s creation,
I type it to a virtual page, in a virtual book,
press, PUBLISH, and hope I made a point of those dots on the page.
-dld Nov. 3, 2010
for T10 – Words, Inc., Wednesday:
(1) high, (2) erase, (3), publish, and (4) hidden