poetry is layering.
typewrites move like kicking girls legs,
if you hit them quick enough and to beats,
they make songs,
I want my fingers to know what words to write.
my mind shut off and numb.
there is no delete.
my hands too shaky for white out.
I concentrate on the keys,
hit them perfectly
but my fingers fall between
consonants and vowels,
constant rewrites over letters.