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Sound Off
It's such an odd sound,
the tick of keyboard keys
being keyed in chunks
at a time;
the sputtering transport of thoughts
from mind into matter
into letter.
Now how does the next line start?
A line break,
or something alike,
is inserted
to kill the monotony, we say.
But really just
that's where our brain
goes away for a second
to wait for the next
stanza to hit
and we're off once again
on the tangent
we know that will end
but not when
exactly
because it's so hard
to let go
when you're feeling the flow
of the feeling
and its redundancy burns
on and off
like a trick-candle
until we provide
the spit of closure;
It's such an odd sound.
