The Typeset

Typewriter written, on the phone with ltlmke

Copasetic,
I’ve never liked that word at all.

Rectangle-state people live in boxes.

Weather is a predator,
A snake that can eat you whole.
Earth’s atmosphere, planets’ motion,
Single systemic flux.


You; (verb); other.

Concrete ice of the mind,
An aspiration story.

Forget the “ABCs”
And the spelling,

Now we see the crocodile,
I’ll hang his teeth on the wall,


“Tool” said ltlmke.


Hello I’m listening,
Sullen Girl,
I was thinking,
Changing phones.

Fish tank: an enclosure of fluidic space,
You probably can’t hear it,
But they come up and pick
The food right out of your fingers.

Feed the fish.

They’re almost like mood rings
That swim around.

…Ya know, another
Cool fish to have
[are] angel fish…

Yeah, I’m just feeding the fish listening to you type.
Yeah, I’m just typing about you feeding the fish.

He’ll hammer
Me on my math skills.

Then off we go.

Mathmatical equations all over the page.

I still like the pawns stretching diagonally.
I’m the queen; I’d like to be the rook.
This game is going to move pretty quickly I think.

This ain’t some tappy-ti-tap on the keyboard,
Hoping the electrons go,

Swing ink!
We are swinging ink!

The colors kinetic,

Little moving pieces of letter,

The typeset.

“I even got to make the paper one day.”



....and so upon the following morning:

I am,

Patient as a stained glass window,
waiting for the sun,

Wary as a lion,
spring loaded in the brush,
as she suddenly smells another meat eater,

Muted as sunglasses,
on a cloudy day,

Swinging ink like
a squid in peril,

Horny as a jack rabbit,
buried in a bag of viagra.