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Ode to a typewriter

My college roommate


True friend of a tactile type of writer

A piano for poets,

Plinking inky scrolls of subtext

On a silent, scarred ribbon.

Ghost words wrapped around an axle

Sing of meanings equal

To those impressed on onion skin,

(Where I foolishly thought

Each mistake, nearly fatal,

As it was before penicillin)

Thank God all the love and hate letters ran together

Returned to to their dusky glyph haven

On the opposite spool.


About polarflares

My head is so big because it has so many holes and air gets in.

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