. . . That is a word.
That is a word careless.
Paper peaches.
Paper peaches are tears.
Rest in grapes.
Thoroughly needed.
Thoroughly needed signs.
All but.
Relieving relieving.
Argonauts.
That is plenty.
Cunning saxon symbol.
Symbol of beauty.
Thimble of everything.
Cunning clover thimble.
Cunning of everything.
Cunning of thimble.
Cunning cunning.
Place in pets.
Night town.
Night town a glass.
Color mahogany.
Color mahogany center.
Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.
Loveliness extreme.
Extra gaiters.
Loveliness extreme.
Sweetest ice-cream.
Page ages page ages page ages.
Wiped Wiped wire wire.
Sweeter than peaches and pears and cream.
Wiped wire wiped wire.
Extra extreme.
Put measure treasure.
Measure treasure.
Tables track.
Nursed.
Dough.
That will do. . . .

— From Gertrude Stein’s Geography and Plays (1922); Read full poem at “Letters of Note.”

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Comments and Likes will remain open. Thank you to everyone for sharing your thoughts and helpful guidance on this subject. (Jennie and I will edit the About page to reflect this decision.)

Written words can stand alone, and often do so powerfully, but what are words without the meaning we attach to them? “Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.” Our meanings paint the “red red rose,” and the blood we shed when pricked by thorns paints our memory. “What’s in a name [or a word]? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

So please, share your meanings, share your voices, share your words. And share freely, with us and with each other, without obligation or expectation. Jennie and I will do the same.