Many poets have tried, and failed, to romanticise everyday aspects of human life. This poem succeeds where these others have failed, in being written in a language within a language: describing a shared physical instinct to abstain from vocalising, and instead, to smash the keyboard. This poem appeals, and can be appreciated by, all those who have ever owned a keyboard, showing the far-reaching vision of the poet.

The reader is given little to go on. Even the title of this poem is a contradiction: "Untitled Sonata No. 23" is both a title, and not a title, in the same way that this poem is both a poem and not a poem. The language is not really a language, and even the punctuation doesn't stick to "traditional" rules. Instead of reading this poem, the reader finds themselves pacing out the frustration in their head, seeing each word as a visual representation of pure vexation.

The phrasing here is key: for example, in the first stanza, each line is stopped at the end by some kind of punctuation, be it a comma, a semicolon, or a dash. This gives vital clues to the reader for their interpretation by showing them precisely what the writer was feeling: where they were breathing, how they phrased their thoughts as they wrote this. It could be argued that this poem is more candid than those in English.

Of course, this changes throughout the duration of the poem: one memorable section is this:

"skldjk lksdjlk askldjlka dkasjkd askldjlksakl
kdjlk kldsakl kadkjls djalksxcnmxncm mc mx c
kjdk jkm,xm:"

Here, in the stanza ironically named "Control" (whether this is an allusion to the epic power struggle between man and machine, or simply a description of the Ctrl key is not clear) the enjambement is telling. The lexis changes frantically from mostly "skldj" to the gradual introduction of the controversial "a" key, to the eventual climax with the arrival of the brutally formed "x" key. The line trails off into shorter "mc" variations, before launching back into the "kjd" variations, indicating a complete return to the feelings at the beginning of this section. This feeling of circular feelings and complete frustration is a theme that runs throughout this poem, but is especially apparant in this section. The line ends with the ever optimistic colon, indicating hope and possibly further explanation, but the reader is disappointed when once again, the "jdk" lexis returns in the next stanza.

What further heightens the confusion in this piece is the switch between English and the frantic bashing of the keyboard. Each stanza is given what seem to be deep and meaningful titles, until the reader reaches the end of the poem, and the final stanza is comedically named "Monkeys". Whether this is a playful pun on the nonsense noises of monkeys, a commentary on human nature, or simply an attempt at unexpected humour, is unknown, but whatever the intention, the humour is clear.

The poem ends with the mysterious phrase "yet to be written," placed in parentheses, ended by a comma, indicating that this poem is not the end of the story and leaving the reader in complete suspense as to what could possibly happen, and, indeed, what just happened.

The reader is left confused, bewildered, and completely nonplussed as to what has actually occurred during the poem. Perhaps these feelings mirror the feelings of the poet, of the event of which he describes: such confusion! Why wasn't his keyboard working? Why must he bash it so? Perhaps these questions will remain unanswered, or perhaps the comma ending this poem is as open as it seems, and we may expect a sequel to this tantalising tale.