The Typeset

i.

The poem comes from the typewriter.
Its axiom is the ‘enter’ key. The rules
That it precedes extend like fingers
With their click-clack, their clicka-clack
Sounds on the page, whose black
Logic dings. Are these mothers
And relations of children named Fred?
No. There is position A, position B,
Position Q W E R T.

ii.

You live with typewriter, but never
See it. You read behind it:
You go into rooms but ignore
The door. But why not walls, why not
Pages and set pages too, no mystery
But what we have not typed?
Set your hand over the keys,
And push your fingers, please.