a hymn of praise for the things on the surface of my desk

Whatever Powers may Be, I thank thee,
for all those things without which I could not
creatively function. For the many
writing implements, from those pens with which
I may fill pages with my to-do lists,
unsent drunken angry letters (“fuck off”),
bitter angsty love-not-love poetry,
and, letter by letter, crossword puzzles.
(And Praise be to the New York Times as well.)
And to thou, my computer, which I hate
at the same time I adore thee, for thou
operate most haphazardly, and yet
I need thee for obsessively blogging,
for four gigs of video game soundtracks,
for thirty webcomics I check daily.
Yes, and to my page-a-day calendar
of “Forgotten English” words. Examples:
“Pulletier”: keeper of sacred chickens.
“Womblety-cropt”: hell of a hangover.
Et cetera. How else would I ever
get out of my bed every morning?
Speaking of, praise to my cellular phone,
for waking me up as well, but also
for giving me something to do sitting
alone at a bar: typing those texts which
will go unsent: “Wish I wished you were here.”
And praise to my dear gold Triforce DS,
charging next to my phone, because without
something awesome to do after it all,
I would never, ever get a thing done.