Why Isn’t My Typewriter Autocorrecting or Why I Love Superb Owl Sunday

Some Apple programmer somewhere got a chuckle last night. Did you get autocorrected like I did? I do love a good Owl on Sunday.

Last night I ventured down to SpeakEZ Lounge in Grand Rapids MI, where Sundays is always jazz night. I lugged my typewriter along and set up for a little live poetry. I got a glass of Absinthe and a table for one and here’s what happened:


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My first poem was uncommissioned. There was football in the air, football on the TVs, football in the national subconscious so naturally instead of fighting upstream I let the spirit carry me deep into football territory.

Next a gentleman named JR requested a poem about “Truth and Love, and also the Universal Language of Music.” I always think these poems are the hardest, and it is inevitable that in a session SOMEONE will ask me for a poem about some generalized concepts. As the band slid and jived through various standards like the football players on TV, this is what I hacked out:

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Not my best work but I give myself an A for effort anyway because why not.

Lastly Caitlin, a manager at the bar and old friend of mine, humored me by asking for a poem about “dance, dancing, the art of movement.” I won’t say I wasn’t a little inspired by the halftime show.

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Thanks for reading. Leave your thoughts below, and feel free to send a donation to support my poetic efforts if you enjoyed reading the post.


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