Table of Contents - Vol. VIII, No. 1
I stuck them out there (Little Wriggly Words)
without a life preserver, context-less –
yep, stranded in electric no-man's land.
Think of it as a sudden fit of pique
because the sounds were uncooperative.
The syllables protruded everywhere,
like poking at balloons. But I fixed them:
I stuck them in the white space that unscrolls
below my bottom margin: go away
until I say so (shove down “enter,” HOLD).
It was most satisfying: off they zipped,
god-knows how many cyber-pages down.
Retrievable, when they behaved themselves.
And in the meantime, they can thank their “i”s
that they weren't backspaced to oblivion
(because some evenings, when the blues set in,
I hit that backspace button pretty hard)
As for the empty page – well, not for long.
It seems that Outer Marginalia
is more productive than a yeast in wort.
Or something happened out there. All I know
is, they conscripted all my docile rows
of Times New Roman. And I've no idea
what happened to the poem I tried to write,
So good thing I like this one. Wriggly words –
© Kathryn Jacobs