¨So, words¨

 ¨A little mist, a haloed glory,

and the trees, and us,

air in the morning.¨ (Quasimodo)

Ok…where is it?

here´s a screen, a keyboard,

all I need is words…I started

writing in my mind when I

was young because I had

no one to talk to…so I started

talking to myself…the voice

wasn´t me…nor was it not me…

it was a voice that came from

a mind on its own

free to arise without pretense…

I wasn´t pretending to the paper.

It´s just recording what comes up

without editing…. A snapshot of

images made of words. Blocks

of information to stack to create

an image in your blockhead that

you can recognize,

or identify incorrectly

and jump to conclusions

because your mind is a

wild monkey…

know what I mean?

The word is a virus; a dangerous

vehicle that can be misused to

control peoples´ behavior. In this

way, the pen is mightier than the

sword. I was thinking of three of my

favorite writers and that their not

inconsiderable fame came as a

result of not so many poems and

songs. A lot of people could see

some important, yea critical, things

in just a few words of these people.

Of course, the best is a gesture

with no words at all. That´s what

Dylan did in his interviews.