Wednesday, December 26, 2012


I am a proofread, amended manuscript.
An altered copy of the undesirable original
where history was unnecessarily edited:

Delete this. Add that.

I was broken down into parts,
each line, each word, each letter
declared this blue-eyed literary initiative all wrong.

The authors claimed I was filled with mistakes:
disconnected, superfluous, unstructured,

Each page was rewritten
until I was nothing but
a collection of multiple revisions,
decidedly unfit for publication.

But authors don't write stories.
Stories write stories.

I am my own story,
my own unfinished truth,
my own work in progress,
my own creative effort.

And in the beauty of our revisions is where our story will be told.

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