These words, some well-formed some ill
come from a lattice of lumpen black plastic
daubed with white symbols scattered
randomly. I try to shape and order
its chaotic structure and make sense
of an insentient polymer that can
transform words into images,
tabbing across the screen like a crab
skirting the foreshore.
This keyboard types feelings not words.
I press four times for love, more
for regret and sorrow. And happiness?
Well, often that is too much effort
and anguish seems easier to impart.
But sometimes, sometimes these keys
are like magnets for steel-tipped
fingers and a world appears,
black on blank.
