Michael's Fáilte

Welcome to these writing warmups, blatherings, rantings, meditations, perorations, salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to avoid the guilt that came in the crib for uttering something that would hurt or injure those in authority, being of everlasting servitude to all and sundry, having chosen the road not taken and the frost on the pumpkin long before the kettle turned black or the cat found its own tail fascinating,
Your humble servant, etc.

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea
Lava Meets Ocean. Lynx, Starboard Side. Day 2.Early Morning, July 8 2006, Looking for Flashes off Chain of Craters, Big Island

Monday, September 26, 2011

Remembering My Typewriter

Is that a typewriter I see before me?
Come let me press your space bar
with either thumb let me swing your
carriage to a new line hold down
shift and fly across QWERTY
ipsum capsicum and ampersand
without thinking fingertips resting only
on your home keys whilst pausing
twisting back your roller for earlier
impressions those lightning strikes
those keys the bones of your ancient
fan opening and closing take me
to the margins of possibility until
your ribbon runs quite dry oh my
tabulate tabulate return oh damn

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