One Space; The Final Frontier

I was told that the new norm

in writing is one space after punctuation.




Is it to save some trees?

Is it for less wear and tear on the space bar?

Is it because we no longer have time to breathe between sentences?


The sentences are getting shorter too,

to accommodate our attention spans.

No more Dickensonian paragraph long first lines.


“It was the best of times; it was the worst of times…”

Was it? Is it?


Comma usage is down too.

The little dimples that break in two

long attached words like a kit-kat bar.


Are we projecting the cultures

A.D.D. tendencies to the page?

What page?

The screen glows and our faces become light blue.


I will not go into the rant about cursive no longer being taught.


I will not keyboard my way out of number two pencils.


I wonder what Wendell Berry thinks about this?


Don’t get me wrong, I love trees.

My mother’s ashes are buried underneath a majestic sycamore.

I love the sound of pages turning.


My wife might get me a Kindle for my birthday.


I wrote this in poetic form so I wouldn’t be tempted to double space between punctuation.

Winter Wedding

Lace draped like a cloth

cut from the clouds

on upturned roots

which lined the roads.

Crystals of symmetry,

like linen sleeves

slip down the arms

of sleeping trees.

A canopy formed,

a wedding veil

suspended on the wind.

I heard Pachelbel’s canon

as I stood in the aisle.