New notebook.
Savagely ripping through the white paper,
stripping it of its white pureness.
Crossing dots,
meeting lines,
poetry on the making.

I love how my poetry
is modified by its support.
I had a bigger notebook before,
my verses hang like open bottles,
restlessly unending.
Now its smaller, shorter.
Just phrases separated by the end of the line
and hurry up 'cause the page is ending.