ah, a cause for perpetual celebration and
a poem to my new computer, birthed upon
opening its sleek shipping components a
few days ago.
mascara typography
keyed up the clackity track
padded
my lap's topped with
an ultrathin
info maker
made luminescent as a fly's flappers
laid cross't the abdomen
this is the clamshell
compact of tomorrow
so
that screen's mirroring me
faced with a mimic
not a mime field
under each
application
of
mascara typography
error: no brain
congregates
on
reflection
me type words even while seated. go fig, newty, sir.
found a humble yet servicable image editor this eve.
watch out. the rocks are going to come alive.