at one hundred words per minute
only interrupted by the even faster
click of the backspace;
at one million synapses per second
uninterrupted by the blink of an eye
does the analysis of creation
make the product irrelevant?
not knowing exactly the why
but feeling the inspiration
the desire to extol, expunge,
excoriate or exorcise
runaway fingers, racing words
punctuated by the click of the keys,
it’s slower if done with the pen.
is it slough that fills the page?
the excess of the mind
the calculation of some
spiritual arithmetic that will somehow
increase an individual’s public worth
initially i thought i was writing about poetry
in a timely and ridiculously typical meta-way
but really i am writing about
©mariah voutilainen 2018
calculate some more spiritual arithmetic at (re)imagining the mundane.