i could type this loud


i click and repeat
and listen as it all happens
i could do this over
and over, again

i want to piece it together
and tear it apart
but you cannot hear or see my hesitation
my silence
(nor do you know when i am interrupted-nor by whom nor by what)
in this world without interruption some call improvisation
the constantly performing performer who performs as she sleeps
writes never an or always an and
without end

i could type this loud
no need to bold it though i could and do
loud as in projected like in my mind’s eye
across buildings that rise up near forests or the ocean
at night

where people are drawn by sound to come closer and light
and you could hear the sound of me clicking
the sound of you playing
see the light dancing across structures
the captured video of yesterday
mingling with this moment’s live feed

these are notes
i am sketching