I bought more journals today.

It is the pattern of things, the calming behaviors, the repetitive motions.

It’s the thumb sucking rocking back and forth.

It’s the coping mechanism of someone with too much on her mind.

I found myself in front of them, bound and set, lined by size and color.

A new shipment of them newly arranged.

I ran my fingers along them.

Grids, lines, plain paper and cubed.

I found a set I’d been wanting for a while and

justified to myself that

this makes sense and

I waited properly like

a properly insane

addict would do.

Unwrapping the plastic and smelling the paper

not quite like a book

more like a book


All the possibilities of things to say,

I think that’s what I like so much.

A signal to myself that there is something in myself

needing to get out

and if I keep giving myself places to put it

maybe it will come.

I used to think that there was no use in writing because

all those things had been said.

Unlike the imagination of youth I struck cynical gold with this

idea that I had nothing new to give

so I didn’t have to give anything.

Then I found the words

and the feelings

and the experiences

and they cluttered up my mind each forking off

into new things.

Things that never happened

things that could have happened

people I’ve met and

people I’ve never met.

It became overwhelming to think of all the the things

that I was thinking

that no one had ever thought before.

How can I write it all down before it slips away?

How I can I write it all down and share it?

Here, take a look, my thoughts

unique and original, first time ever

limited-edition, limited-print.

Instead I stacked these loose-leaf thoughts in piles in boxes in closets

opened up the next one for print.

I pour words out of my mind like cerebral excess, pour-over,

ice cream melt.

And I never thought to wonder what to do with it all

once I figured how to get it out.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s