Finding Words Print

Plucking strings on my guitar, looking for a melody - tapping keys on my Mac, looking for a poem. The blind man searches the dark and hears the light, the infant screams, flails aimlessly and finds resolution in the warm mothers breast.


Where do the words come from, how do they reach my fingers? Surely an ancient question not yet ready to be answered. I am aware of one trick, though, taught to me by my professor in English 101 at Chico State: just keep the pen moving. That was, I’ll have to remind my readers, back in the day when some humans were still writing with an ink-filled stick in their hand. Now, twenty years later, the thought already gives me cramps all the way up through my shoulder (the left one I must say).


Needless to say I took that wise woman’s advice to heart and have since not stopped. Yup, just look at the volumes piled high upon my desk and you’ll lose all doubt. But, I ask myself, when shall I punctuate? Once I get on a roll like this I no longer know when to end a sentence, must worse a paragraph. But don’t...

...worry, it all makes. Sense. Just bare with me a bit. The question was how do the words make it to the page. Well, just picture that newborn - arms waving in the air, lungs giving all they can to blare out the message. Those delicate little fingers don’t know where they’re reaching, these bulky fingers of mine don’t know where they’re heading.
Isn’t that the trick, just an aimless journey through the universe? Perhaps.