Every year I found something new about words to fall in love with.
One year it was the sound. I fell for chains of rhythmic words. If they flowed in my head, if the consonants rang in the air, I loved them.
Another year it was the shape of the words on the paper. The smooth curves made me shiver, regardless of the meaning of the words. Their lines were a color show in my mind. Their contours drove my poetry.
Another year it was the certainty of the lines and of the soundwaves. I loved the stark assertions my words on the page could make about life. Even pretty lies were gospel when they were in print, by virtue of being immortal, good news about another step in discovering something True or at least Solid to define the abstract.
And now... who can define now? I write to discover life and to discover language. I thrive off the communicative aspect now, though I'm never certain if I'm talking to anyone but myself.
100 mornings later
after
amnesia
animal
another fallen angel
autumn lover
collecting, sunday, 2 a.m.
color symphony
cynicism
faces and voices
forest fires
from a bitter admirer
lillian
long division
montana boys
my bed
painting
recovery
revision
self-portrait
sketches on water
standing
transitioning
American girl
Anger
Beauty
disjointed
Driving
muse
November
i'll be getting my other stories, Alone and Excerpts, up sometime. remember about the laziness. :)
bored already? i have a scrapbook too, you know.
while you're at it, here's some quotes & stuff from my planner.
i've recently started a page o' linkage on here for the first time.
as i edit, please email me at popejenn@yahoo.com.