A walk around hometown

invites returning scenes

people once known

even trees and alleyways—



old dog secrets




What shall I secret now

here in this silver locket—-

a blade of green

a slip of blue

a sift of light

a gulp of river

a purple of rain

a shiver of wind

a mince of moon

a glass of joy

a flick of hope

a bar of song

a hint of soon?

What can I keep close

steadied and still—

not let go?


Dear Tom Hanks,

i am here to tell you that i am so (imagine SO big gesture) happy with my new Hanx Writer.

how i have missed the feel, the soun—oh, my friend says “you’re kidding, right? sorta like me getting up in the morning and practising my fiddle.” So now I have located and donned my headphones. We’re in a hotel so, you know, every hum and bleep is heard.

Anyway, Tom Hanks, i will use this thing. A lot, probably.

Modernity with depth or something, but mostly i think it returns me to a time of power. Yes, those lazy and bold times when i, Procrastinator, stayed up all night long to write (type) term papers on my manual typewriter—and the miraculous eraseable paper—all wide-eyed and inspired and desperate and unwilling to admit failure, composing and formatting and typing typing typing until finally i found my way to clux it all up into a Conclusion and then…ah! The End. Stack staple submit.

You can see that those remain unforgettable moments. My still sound, albeit somewhat older heart awakens to pound more prominently right now as i briefly return to that place and harried time.

Be assured that it is not to return to the past that impels me to download and utilize your Hanx Writer. No, although i can walk backward as well as anyone, i see little value in living as such, wandering lost in the already explored behind. Nope, Hanx Writer is for the now, for the as yet unwritten future.

It’s for me. And you. It’s for Yes. For the type writer inside.

Sincerely, thank you.

An Unfinished Writer