Let’s say I was painting a page with words

They must come from somewhere

I see them flash to the screen by magic

 

For the brain may signal the fingers

To move over the keyboard

But the brain holds no words

 

The heart may care what shows up in the verse

But it may be cold, too,

And doesn’t connect to those flying digits

 

It must be therefore that the ten of them

Themselves create the poem

One haphazard letter and another