You once knew writers were at work by the sound of their typewriters.
Daytime in spring or summer, whole streets of the West Side
and the Village were filled with the music of clacking and bells.
Now there is silence – windows closed for air-conditioning, computers
too quiet to be heard below. It may be possible to compose
poems on computer screens; something in me doubts it.
Yet even quills dipped in ink and scratching across parchment
were a technological advance over chanting in firelight,
but for the same purpose: dispelling fear as the shadows grow.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: