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Misty Pings
Sometimes fat fingers on the keyboard
produce the surreal that leaves me
not cursing as usual
at the way my brain brain he says
and hand were not wired up properly,
but laughing out loud
with sheer delight like a child
meeting the joy of absurdity in words
which somehow gets suppressed
in the years of growing... down?
I've just written a comment
about such matters of mistyping, and
there on the paper it is in black and white -
'misty pings'...
remember those old steam typewriters
with their tap tap and just before the end of the line,
a bell pinged to warn you?
I'm sitting here entranced by
misty pings,
thinking yes, could describe some of my poems...
I think I may have hit a brand-new metaphor, like..
like a nail hit on the head.
In the fog, or the mist of dawn.
ping.
poem
by
Michael Shepherd
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