We write poetry late into the night, pecking at the keys, making sure they don’t stick. Reversing if necessary to cover up bits of empty space that missed a dab of ink. Trying to conceptualize and plan your thoughts from the day and bring them upon paper is futile as your brain runs faster than your fingers can keep up with. Just let it flow…
Each key has it’s individual weight and structure. When you forget how each key hits, one can touch down a bit too hard, causing the paper to be excavated. I felt uncomfortable about this at first, hoping for an immaculate piece of paper in the end, but I soon realized, it just makes way for beautiful constellations when held up to candle light.
Montara, Ca; 2010
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