i have this thing for things
certain things
like this cheap japanese fountain pen
and fine paper
when i bring them together
often words come and find their way here
sometimes they don’t
they are inside me somewhere
often clamoring to get out
they land on the page
but may wander away
lost in their freedom
sometimes they stay
the best ones flow
without my conscious direction
showing hidden parts of me
pressing to be revealed
when that happens
another hand guides the pen
i watch words flow onto the paper
amazed and puzzled at what they tell