so, we're trying to catch up while still falling behind... it's starting to bother me now, unfortunately. partly bc i'm just in a funk overall and many things are slipping and i'm not giving myself enough grace, but... it's frustrating all the same.

 at the same time, this was pretty fun to bang out. i'm reminding myself it's just a draft and i can dig in and rework it later, if i so desire. in fact, i left it in arial (the google docs default font) for the screenshot i used for this poem on bluesky to remind myself of exactly that... idk if it worked, lol

 anyway, enjoy!

  

day 14 - typist

by tophie palmer
#napowrimo2026, apr 14 (late)

i’ve found typing poetry on typewriters

to be pretty terrible, honestly.

the clicky-clacks are certainly satisfying

(as is the hum of an electric in waiting),

but what if you make a mistake? 

what if it all goes sideways, the white-out spills,

or you run out of ideas?

 

i used to own so many of those

anachronisms—staunch, splendid, silly.

maybe 5? at least 4, certainly 4 or more. 

they’ve all wandered off, however;

many had names, but i’ve forgotten most.

that fabulous turquoise electric was nameless,

poor teague (left behind by mistake) was not.

 

my last was my first—desdemona.

my grandmother’s college companion:

all black wrinkle paint and art deco mystery,

a delicate “remington noiseless.”

my mother’s got it for now,

unless someone’s thrown it out,

which would, honestly, hurt more than i’d think.