The duplex dreamt and the tenant typed
The reader was making a book; and not
Unlike emulation, was editing generously.
The building in the barrio with a tiny yellow light.
Worlds were created in near silence,
and destroyed even quieter still. The writer wrestles,
with choices and stalled situations, corners
and trap doors until stuck no more, after all was imaginary.
The darkness provided the right light.
The writer made galaxies with aether.
Contrast and focus, like noise easier to see
when the dimness has long nestled in.
And the scrivener muffles scribbles, while snores and strokes
of keys alleviate worries, working while the rest slept.
The word wizard cast spells, swept up by sunrise.
The writer reads what the reader rights, a better ending after all.
*This poem was inspired by the famous Wallace Stevens poem, The House was quiet and the world was calm, featured (also a recorded reading) on the Poetry Foundation website.
Painting by Rembrandt [Public domain], 'A Hermit Reading (c. 1630) via Wikimedia Commons.
