Saturday, 18 February 2017

tell it to the hand, 18th February 2017

what am I thinking, it's easier not, not to think of a thing or a thought..... it's not about the slope or the slant whether forwards or back even upright the words or the loops in the letters or the way that the 'k' might be different depending if it ends at the end of starts at the start or balances somewhere between...... nor how big or how small or how angled a sentence slithers from one side of the page to the next.... it's about the mistakes, the stumbles and oops, the errors, the flaws, the slips of the pen that don't seem to be playing a part..... where all conscious intent lost touch with the hand, where reflex rebuked any plan.... where thought became feral....... cruising on disconnect, or misconnect, when the world is offset and your grapholocation has slipped out to lunch........ where the temperament, moods and emotions are found, bound and unravelled, where the order of disorder's ordered...... scuttling and scurrying they always find a way to make their mark, slough to the surface despite best effort in the scribbled scrawl of the however neat....... they judder and jar leaving scuff-marks wherever they go........ it's a long, long way from the head to the hand and anything can happen along the long and winding way.....

© robert greig

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