I like the rush of tumblewords,
Slipping through my fingers
Like warm grains of sound.
Spilling, spelling, pulling me into the screen,
Into an alternate reality.
A world of letters and words,
Shaping thoughts, feelings, concepts.
Hiding behind vocabulary,
I can create myself;
What I say
And what I don’t
What I type, clickety clackety tap.
Building myself out of alphabet:
A statement of likes precariously perched
On top of a pile of misspelled words;
A ‘we’ somewhere having fallen off,
Being matter-of-factly replaced with an ‘I’;
A dangling piece of text, meaningless,
loaded with hidden possibilities,
A word game of the most challenging sorts.
And behind it all, a Meccano Maniac,
Is me with my rush of tumblewords.