This year, as I have the last few, I am participating in Geof Huth's International Pwoermd Writing Month. A pwoermd is a one word poem -- no title -- the poem is its own title and text, as we are ourselves. I will be posted a pwoermd here each day in April.
The above pwoermd is one of my favourite neopwoermds that I created from last year. Aitch-two-oh found inside ghoti, George Bernard Shaw's famous phonoglyph for 'fish.' We are both medium and message. Flow and floating. Both water and fish. We are what carries us, what rivers and rivens us. Water we? Fishous circle eddyfying. Stream of consciousness.
"Not seeing rivers is also another way of dying.”
- Etel Adnan
We hear what is inside words. We here. We word that in which we wade. Write makes rite. Or right. Alright.
Words are not what they seme. Or polyseme. Sometimes words are all seam. We are such words as stuff is made of. Not Bernie Madoff. We are stuffed with words as words are stuffed with us. We seme the seam. We make it sew. Between a won thing and I is another. Astreamic, I stream.
This month, two words don't make a write. Wonder word poems wonder where words wander. A journal of a thousand stars a first pwoermd.