The laws of mathematics postulate
the chimp creates a masterpiece
simply punching randomly the keys
infinitely sitting over them
as I do now.
I push the keys not randomly
yet no great wisdom in the rhyme
results in bright quotations, Bartlett worthy
nor words that deeply stir my own self’s soul.
How long does one need strike the keys
till come the simple words
“And gentlemen in England, now a bed
shall think themselves accursed they were not here”?
Methinks we will be sitting
chimp and I together
stringing words of equal polish
unto the end of the world.
.
—————————————————–
,
Indeed. Until you wrote it, you did not know that you would. And you manage it more than often enough, Frank. It is a gift even if you work at it, because you work at it. Here, you find yourself. Not in abstraction. But concretely.
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You’ve got one over on the chimps as far as I’m concerned.
Whoever took credit for the chimp/typewriter theory was an idiot.
Best wishes, Pete.
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I love this and often feel the same way 🙂
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Carol – I’m sure many of us on WP do! Regards
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