Words are made for a certain exactness of thought, as tears for a certain degree of pain.

-Renee Daumal


Language is art, language is imagery, music, rhythm, thought, responsibility and communication. With the extensive English vocabulary available to us, language allows for precision of depiction – well almost. Sometimes, the creation of new words provides us with additional, subtle differences in meaning. For many of us, a new word can be a fresh thought – and a thought-provoking specificity in our exchange of ideas, enabling us to have more philosophical clarity about familial, social and global issues – about ourselves.

I find it useful, sometimes, to invent language in order to communicate with greater accuracy, the motivations, the emotions, the visualizations, sounds, actions, rhythms, atmosphere, and the characteristics of places, individuals and groups, I happen to be depicting. I don’t invent language simply for the sake of doing so. I create a word in order to be more precise. Sometimes, however, I create a new word simply because I enjoy the imagery it evokes and its intrinsic musicality – and also, the opportunity the word affords me to convey meaning with additional, rigorous fidelity.

The words we use are accompanied by a responsibility; thoughtless, malevolent language can have destructive results. Positive, enlightening words have the potential to unite and heal. New words can be fresh experiences and simply fun. Many have become part of my own vocabulary.

Certainly, we have all, at various points in our lives, come across or learned about avaricious, hate-filled, habitually angry and negative people, bent on destruction of all that is positive – Drooma-like individuals we see in THE WORLD OF GLIMPSE with faces TWISTTORRRRRRRTED by jealousy, anger and greed – with dredgerlips protracted into cylindrical straw slurps:


Spunktaneous’ greenicity,

his glow-power –

his will-to-go power.

We want to trap Spunktaneous in the pallid hopelessness of the Droomian world

with its dreary droomascape,

techno-illogical botchery,

and a Comocean filled with clangorous, deafening debris.










Spunktaneous’ words in response to them:

Color suckers…that’s all you are.

Spectroscopic parasites!

Color your world yourselves! I am not available. Goodbye!