Stumbling into ourselves

I only type every third night. I have no plan. My mind is a blank. I sit down. The typewriter gives me things I don't even know I'm working on. It's a free lunch. A free dinner. I don't know how long it is going to continue, but so far there is nothing easier than writing.
~Charles Bukowski

A portable typewriter owned by Ernest Hemingway
(who felt very differently than
Bukowski about the ease of writing)
photo by Cullen328

I scrambled to put together a Poetry Friday post because this week went by so fast and was so full. But here I am! "What do we need words for?" seems like it could be a good poem prompt :-)

What We Need Words For
By Rebecca Seiferle

Each morning, his baby fingers clack
on the electronic keys of the obsolete typewriter
that my father left us when he died,
and what my son hears and loves is the sound
of his own fingers clattering into the world, the zing
of the carriage return, the space bar like a runaway train
clicking through the letters that he is only beginning
to recognize, the hunt and peck
of his own name.

We all stumble into ourselves
like this, fitting our fingers to the shape of letters
while the page gallops out of our reach,

read the rest here

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Choices
By Tess Gallagher

I go to the mountain side
of the house to cut saplings,
and clear a view to snow
on the mountain. But when I look up,
saw in hand, I see a nest clutched in
the uppermost branches.

read the rest here

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My Juicy Little Universe has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Heidi!