Manuel Typewriter

New horizon never done this before new landscape running out of time running out of space out of ink the only reminder of this reality pack it up, the thwack thwack of this machine is pulsing a mind of its own mechanical brain mechanical body keys striking like a viper against the page a row of steel teeth lashing out against imagination a row of Buddhist Monks a row of Muslims all bowing towards this essence of creation going in and out of this world riding the wave of unseen spring time rain spring time water gushing forth shared by all territory mused by all drink from this chalice, this jug my friends come join us in this moment this beautiful sunrise even the sunset is nice as the moon waxes pours out like the candle stick melting and running down too the floor of the psyche recall this moment when the light dimmed shadows all staring in calm desperation waiting for the sun to rise again gripping my cold embrace we hugged kissed cried as the animals howled and so did we our perfect random chaos