Poem: At the Keyboard

 

At the Keyboard

 

fingertips.  bishops and rooks.  

diagonal.  orthogonal.

hostage to a rash hopscotch,

obsessed yet servile

over sleek prim tiles.

troublesome tiles, 

tiles which somehow 

invoke the odor of Darth Vader’s chest.

 

my eyes track mumbo jumbo.

ears dog a ridicule of clicks.

hours of this.  hands twin crabs, 

doing a mountebank shuffle.

fingertips--later--

fade through a falter of clog dance,

 heart yanked

as if an Id-space-time machine ... 

Z's to ampersands,

drowsy then aroused,

gleeful with adventure, fear and sex ...

commas turn into knaves

then look like semen.

hyphens become hymens

wasting their innocence ...

keystrokes melting drip by drip ...

'how long 

can so many period marks last?' ... 

'how deep can the sense of touch 

get lost 

on this topo-psycho-logical  trip?'

should the hero retreat,

exhausted yet stimulated?

should the lovers flee

the multi-emotional mission

and hide in a far more simple, social

realm of chess?

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9/26

5/26

1/12/26 mods ... very difficult poem

10/3/24 eds.