the monkey at a typewriter
is getting better
odds when they are given
autocorrect,
we think. still,
we got bored waiting and wired
the food dispenser to a sensor
counting the sounds of the margin bells
so we can let *them*
feed the dog,
while we step out
for lunch and weed
and watch our smoke rings
waft into the webs, then drooling,
nap and dream
of maybe making sense of that
spider's fractals buzzed