buzz stain

a shaking hand
with another
and that is
what is called is a
motion
from the upper outer synapses
a foible kingly gesture
his 5 best men
erect
standing and reaching awkwardly
headward is
and is five of them

feeling uncomfortable that is graduating with honors
honorable and the laziest sense
drenched in head from toe
to my own birth
and that is
what is
whatever it is
that is

justwrite 30 september

there's a kind of quiet
riding out the storm surge
urging rainbows from creek beds
wandering instead into wet grass
this too will be classified
this rain is not as wet as last week's
wait until the lady on the corner
has her say/ from her porch
torching up the hotline
feeling fine except for the troubles
bubbling up unshaved stubble
irritating/ saving no nations
irrigation so out of touch
a crutch for lazy lettering
water flying right by
touching no dry spells
yelling out tomorrow's menu
blue Ls and red Hs spelling nothing
try the hail it's really something
plumping the tires for another go
pillow talk with rocks in my mouth
this i promise you
there will be no compromise
there will be no wrong
only the thunder can stay
gold and aching for release
depth charts disheartened by age
there are no chances from this angle
down from the top of the/ chop of the tree
all the little pork
all the sweetened toes
waiting for the sky to slow
the moon flooded last night/
maybe again
maybe it will pour out
south america
oranges and greens
mountains of culture, vultures
tongues thick with poetry
a sky that answers

justwrite 29 september

an alabaster breakfast
and an earthquake on fire
mired in hollandaise sauce
wondering what the ingredients cost
i will go with you to live in the zoo
we will feed our guests bananas
let us laugh peanuttily with wide teeth
the truth is my jaw is still numb
there are apples too crunchy today
the rusty saw the curtain call
snowflakes stalling from a half-season away
set out to play on a side porch
only the company shines their shoes
spit and polish the hobknobble
hoboken misspoken boot straps
pull me up by my pigtails
where have all the pigtails gone
long drawn-out with curlicue marvel
i have closed the windows now
ready for my close-up
last night i dreamed of ice cream
mentioned this afternoon suddenly
why do they call it tennis
would you reach out in defense of motion
how yellow are your pages
ages too crowded by eights
fated dates resorted to straights
flushing gibraltar, tops to the wall
let me call again
i will disguise your stovepipe
bake your face into a cream pie
there is only one you here
yes i'm talking too
on and on a train leaves the station/
tunes out

Scary places

Scary places…

I remember The Path and all.

And all of us who had to walk through it. “The Path” was actually the small area- probably only a hundred feet or so wide- of trees and such-

Probably the edge of St.Matthias’ property-

That we had to cross between the edge of schoolyard and the end of a neighborhood street.

I remember stepping onto its muddy banks or dried clay/sediment with thre tree roots making sort of ‘steps’ as we stepped onto/into the path area.

I don’t think it was just he incident with the wild dogs that made/makes it scary- I think, really, is that you were leaving your freedom behind-

You were leaving the neighborhood streets and resigning yourself to another WORLD for the day, and boy did I hate it sometimes.

Once I was there, I think I had fun most times, but I also tried not to go- in first grade once, I refused to finish going through the path to school.

I stopped at the edge of it, and my sister Amy had to get her 5^th grade teacher Ms. Bigford to come and talk to me. I don’t know how she got me to cross the school yard and come into the building- but she did. Butat that’s what made the Path so scary- it was the threshold to a world like Scout’s- where I felt repressed.

chik chak

the chicken industry is changing
and so am i
headlorn-factbased-cringable
in sweatpants and marginal toothgrins
swabbing up their own soup
staining their well-worn shoes
their own soup
coagulating
and metastasizing
and changing
tens and tens and tens of them
stacked up
in beams
crowing over the church
the church parking lot
singing songs
their songs
that care about their wellborn shoes
and their freeworn feet
and their liberty
with several syllables
as yet to be calculating
strutting out
of unstruttable mouthes
just like georgia in spring
the smell of delorn georgia when the birds come out

justwrite 28 september

i'm going for a run
when i come back
or when i don't
keep track of the steps
i might have taken
you might have mistaken
there are duets
there are do nots
there are true spots of madness
filtering through the clouds
you're allowed to say goodbye
you're welcome to say thank you
anyway
everybody ought to share manners
of speaking sneaking in extra words
have you heard the absurd rumors
i'm going out to investigate
to domesticate the wild
to throw childlike excuses
into the maw the wishing well
if only i had longer legs
if only my knees bent backward
then i'd be getting somewhere
then i'd call your number
serve up a made-to-order last-resorter
spending the vacation on trial
hoping to spend frequent miles
flying home to alaska
from home in nebraska
where the names have been changed
vowels rearranged
there is a stage for you
to air your laundry
my infantile quandaries
why do you want
what do i haunt with
hunting out darkcircle eyes
tripping over arrangements
flowers blooming at all hours
on the metro at the station
the hesitation of sneakers into dew
we will find our soles
chase our laces tighter
our tea will be sweetened
the night will wait longer
i will probably return
don't even think/ forget i said

justwrite 27 september

don't wait until they read the story
savor the velveteen cantaloupe,
the raspberry intrigue
let your fingers linger in the full-up fruitcup
the tangible smells, the deep twists
wrists and elbows submerged
when they read it maybe they'll see
but for now
glow it beside your bed
flashes of constant lightning bugs
free to go free from lids
but resting delicious beside you
between your hands
rising in the warm, the sun
doubled up, kneaded down
a cotton draping stopping escaping moisture
no cloister for this loaf
let them eat toast
and toast again the friends extending
the reach out and touch doubledutch
these words in the suitcase, are the suitcase,
are the ticket
sticking themselves in their own pockets
admiring themselves in their own lockets
their ticking tockets and lightbright sockets
these words are the mashed
and the butter sputtering
potatoes and homemade
these images erase grimaces
from chalkboard porcupines
these letters give unfettered
protection from spaghetti
misdirection: never again
there are circuses within rings here
no one wants a commitment
everyone wants a taste
stick fingers in the trash for yesterday
surmise a more attractive
somewhen else/ look for it on the shelf
the troopers need no starship
the rain needs no stream
your lips will be tired without these
languid lines
green vines prying open lying and forcing truth
sticking out a middle toe
wondering where the rest could go
stowing no color/ wheeling on

justwrite 26 september

when i start to write
there comes a time
concisely, precisely
literally
in the form of an alarm
clock
often enjambed with straw
berries or similar merriment
tending toward the abstract
does it counteract the flow
suggest that to go is short-term
stability is relearned
repetition not worth missing
chimes or vibrate or garden samba
jumbling up the space
the lean lines longing for length
the strengths in sounds
resounding consonants
veritable voices in the vowels
sometimes y! the cry of a thousand yellow pigeons
a smidgen of sense
fenced in by delusions
often with a sidewalk
with ways and means
which means committees
the settings often seen in these parts
these contexts in my heart
easily stretched index
a is for apple suckling tree
avocado cornucopia
a plethora of tongues
synchronized
surprised by delicacy
these are the sounds
barring the alarm clock
licking its tocking lips
waiting/ ticking for its turn

justwrite 25 september

in the meantime
let's keep our lettuce between our teeth
the wreaths on the door have long since rung out
bring carrot sticks no celery she's allergic once in a while
there are smiles worth miling for
there are mills spilling over into silkworms
squirm with discomfortable thoughts
who ought to take such liberties
are these universities paid in bulk
where have all the cupcakes come from
the rummy cards snatched from tight thumbs
humming all the aces wild/ jacks piled into the corner
this room is not zoned for people
this steeple is much too deep
let the seeping logs fry their own roots
for they have none
their bristles are twisting in the breeze
the nevermind memo pads flashing blank whites
tighter than a thesis this is developing in color
looking backward stealing the language
twisting from my tongue the warm brown syllables
richness of spices and tomatoes
warm flour tortillas for shaking hands
colors in a colossal plate served piping ripe
there are tastes here i have not acquired
the ovens i won't like have yet to be fired

justwrite 24 september

spread across the canvas
a damaged artichoke
caught in a tender moment
fearing demerits
as if they might arrive in badges
hands full with stitches and edging
there are cakewalks
this is not one
a tightrope went for a jaunt
too soon too soon
the cattleprod regrets
waiting until the watchtower boils
tea and sense at a quarter past four
there are adorable options
four and twenty handmedowns
words compounded, fractured
relapsed into anglo-saxon
the corner of jackson and vine
the eighties with the fourteens
where the seeping from the sewer lands
reaching out empty ears
turning seashells upward,
checking inside
alarm clocks wait in unlikely places
hello it is now
you are ready and not
here comes
struggles with a capital you
a fellow at the market
an antiquated sentiment
went around the corner for a euphemism
please forgive him it's his mother
his brother his heartache his lunch
he ate a bad review
a rejection letter in his soup
the cook denies the signature
the noodles a little overdone
the ending too pert, pat, predictable
evicting excessive characters
omitting unnecessary herds of words
storming strunkly over white
tied by spaces
chased in races no one's trained for
sprained laces and forest fires
no one looking in the right direction
booking the wrong vacation
uniting incoherent nations
i'd like to apologize for the appetizer
your incisor is calling/ it wants a bite

justwrite 23 september

a heart full of poptarts
a quart of milk and an apology
a stalling ball of wax
a cadillac with ammunition, immunity
permission slips unsigned
the design of a caterpillar's calendar
drips slipping between invisible fingers
stingers on the bumble bees
accidents in the juniper trees
there is no way to save face
douse your nouns in handmedown candlewax
tracks and fields stealing homes
the work the play the thing
stages bring steps, curtains
the certainty of autumn
a humming drone of birds
wordless kazoo carollers
the more the merrier
tip fat the ferrier
don't think alright it's twice
a price paid in noise
destroying the royal blue/ didn't vote for you
the posture stewing over orchestras
the clause deplorable
the cause worth pudding for
verbing up the desking
discarding redundant lessons
when i breathe deep i burn
the learning is occasional
the baking is invitational
the noise in the hall stalls thoughts
kids in the hall/ canadian crawl
selling out rootbeer
haunted rides in the empty dark
spiralling funnels through the classifieds
parking and pooling
swimming suits in cahoots with grass
stems depending on the earth
the quirks of quarks in the minuscule dark
where have all the carrots gone
when is a photon not a particle
waving goodbye beside and begone
long drawn out sketches
italian connections and french directions
who can make a difference
who will pay for deliverance
thirty minutes or it's free
bake my TV instead
feed your antennae with static
collapse your vision
breathe in the sounds
louder than any strawberry

justwrite 22 september

i will water your roots
stroke your wings
there is no sky too green
no mountain too bright
wherever you go
speaking of which
of who and how
let's not ask questions
let's give ourselves our own answers
let's dance on the rooftops
we are our own best reindeer
slide presents into ears
steering into heady phone zones
microwaved with saving graces
leftovers tumbling down
rainbow clouds presupposing quiet
always so slick the oil
so tiring the toil
waiting for the watched kettle
the potblack metal
stinging confidential nettles
cowering in backward towers
stay down there
wear a raincoat if you need to
pleading sideways views
requesting a submission deadline
a wholewheat breadline
just because no options are given
just because no future is driven through
a takeout window
a value to steal
a rectangular meal in a circular box
folded into messages
you are what you car what you meet
the eating too occasional
the phrasing awkwardly appraised
wait until the rooster sings
then we'll grow the score
add the innings and be the end
the all
the call of mild sauce
sloshing redly in an unused packet
cracking all it's up to be

justwrite 21 september

somewhere in the badlands
good hands are doing heavy lifting
light work on the dark day
paving grays with amarillo, azul
other languages full of tangled colors
smothered parents declaring it's never been so before!
chores laid out like breakfast
neighbors hung out to dry
dirty clothes in the apple trees
breezy assumptions dumpling the charges
four counts of five
a felony of sorts in open court
sidewalk judgments trudging sentences
down across the cracks
the other sides of mothers' backs
tracking the orchestra
from first chair to home
roaming with no metronome
scoring a run in slanted sun
there are no vegetables on that plate
slate your speakers at the bureau
drawers full of inspiration:
you can be anyone you are!
hangers and handles
bangles for the wrist to twist into
a brew of haha disguises
surmising the mirror is easily fooled
tools of the tricks
spades of the trade
no one sees the ingredients
exponents multiply
parentheses first
bursts of hypnotized formulas
blasts of quadratic negatives
eggs give your face a glaze
honey eats your hair for breakfast
somewhere there is a plan for this
somewhere the rhymes are more subtle
stubble to trip over accidentally
corn stalks knocked like knees together
feathers of birds waiting to be heard
not scene stealers just plain dealers
cards on hands up sleeves sharking about

justwrite 20 september

architects of indifference
build high the marble walls
sinks sunk into granite
counter-measures
there is comfort to be had here
steer clear rounded up
tasty melting meat in a raw mouth
ripe with teeth
there are cushioned steps
leading to no expectations
the windows are frosted:
snow, sun undone
outside there is a moral
quarreling with the gatekeeper
a sleeper cell tucked safe inside
not a tough ride to climb on
a long-gone key carelessly tossed
accidental whiplash forgotten
come to your senses
i'm coming i'm coming
a census light humming
zapping blue numbers from the air
who doesn't care
who weeps for these
weeps for corruption
the redemption of the crucible
arthur miller's toothy pull
harder than putting them back in
come to your door
point your compass outward
no two norths about it
no true storks would carry that in

justwrite 19 september

at this stage in the game
let me just say this is where i say thank you
you're welcome
to say
you're welcome
anytime
but the play which is allegedly the thing
according to a misnamed source
riding in on a backward horse
what i mean to say is good morning
how are your potatoes
your acupuncture
your african dance classes
let me apologize for my jealous zealousness
it was i who watched from up high in the tree
i had no money for soles
i carried my footsteps with me
had no change for dust
waited until after the sky had passed by once
and again
the angles changed chords with the sheets
a fresh new page to flatten with a heavy arm
a lofty aim to claim in back taxes
everyone's got a right to have some
left over situations
issues packaged off to vacations
yesterday is today's fate
a rating of forewarned stars
i read you in the tea leaves
no one's going to stay
leastways today
to say nothing of tomorrow

justwrite 18 september

running
there comes a point/ a time
every step is easier more fluid
pushing muscles into motion is smooth
not at the beginning no
then each step is a task
a potential excuse to quit
sun ankles time
maybe tomorrow might be
but push on anyway
steady on the surface
the embarrassment of stopping after five
minutes/ i can go no more
somewhen then it happens
that gliding balance
breaths easier/ measured
i can keep on/
how could i not
but often it is after
waking up in the moment
recognition of the missing gasps
the steps without gaps of hesitation
measurement shatters truth
science is real
but feel it backward
imagine the ride/ remember
when by the end
it was never so bad
imagine how sad pathetic/ magnetic to failure
but the keepingon
the subtle song of crickets/ dusky thickets
deer dining on soybeans
doublehonked horns for safety
pressing into grass/ strides
slowing down? forward
this is the way

justwrite 17 september

beside the point
the double-jointed hurricane stirs spain into a tizzy
a frizzy lizzard with a lisp spilling drinks into oblivion
wait until the groundskeeper finds out
wait until the houndstooth coats
there are solutions for these patterns
paisley is not the end
all the be all
you can be in the army
of one the reserves serving preserves
the jelly warriors
starving their martian chronicles
red dirt on a hot tin roof
roll of thunder hurl the die
cross the tie rack the rat trap
if i ever seen one
if i ever tried that line
fined all costs to the lost frontier
a layer cake baked into steps
leaping from anniversaries and diaries
and various pleasantries undelivered
let me tell you about a popsicle
when i was young
and i was young once and maybe another time too
there were shoes and they were tied
or else we didn't eat dinner
and our noses were brushed
our apples in our pockets locked carefully
the full upright position
physicians had to look twice to catch us off of school
foolish tokens of misspoken rhymes twisted our time into gold
leaves and leave-taking mistaken for earth
the smell of sunset settling in our hair
wait until the crickets step in
the fly on the swatter tempting the late hour
knowing that the time will come
full well a wheel well is not a safe place to sleep

justwrite 16 september

bizarre tones the baritones in barely grown foreheads forewarned by a four-alarm fire set to expire at the end of the hour a shower of vegetables sent to put it out and doused in candle spoutings touting all the alfalfa and calculating the latent prints a sideways glimpse away from a truer truth the accidental youth bonding over superglue calling you out and spouting your doubts into iridescent shimmers like fake cake sprinkles twinkling onto tongues stung red by dye number nine the fine signs of lemon and lines forsaken like flavors baking out a snack worth attacking with a certain curtain falling down dragging around an extra shoe and a cocoon too like coconut flavor the layers of hairy brown disregard chipped away or slipped into by a force worth reckoning with a tightening grip on the fruits of the labor though anyway there was a sandwich which you might have guessed from the earlier mention of several ingredients speeding expediently down the runway the page the table scarcely able to contain itself in the wealth of wheaty wonder plundered from the shelves the ovens the fields the golden yields of pilgrims' progress the best-dressed grains this side of spain and a maine almost blueberry truth very far from forsooth! by which is meant the ocean and the motion of the waves save one is toward the sun though the isolated previously stated separate cruiser cast off into illusion a wave of a different sort to a different port somewhere with a taste like home

justwrite 15 september

please don't forget to write
i have basted all your globetrotters
what more do you want?
there are haunted houses waiting
shall i ask them in?
why do you swim beside the pool?
my darling my question mark
sparking a love for inquisition
no one suspects
craning our necks in unlikely query
what about the apricots?
i am going for another walk
this time i am coming back
i am stacking all of chicago's wheat
how high the stockyard market
an overpass building
underpassing yielding notes
ten-year Ts and other numbers
wait until the price goes nice
then sell your left tooth for the right one
stun that glue gun
bring it all together that's hot
you've got to run that on
no holding semi-colons nearer
my god
to thee and thou and holy cows
in india in chik fillet
way off course with that horse
playing marco polo blind
off course in the grabby water
a hotel shell game
waiting for the beach
expanding into sand and standing water
otters in the outfield
hors de'oeuvres on second
best seat in the house

justwrite 14 september

let me sharpen your pencil first
the haberdashery hundred-yard-clashery is not quite up to snuff which is tough on virginia and maybe santa claus too but the independent clause who is me i am not! a fragment! thanks will be regularly pleasantly surprised to surmise that all that no-saying played out as mrs. nancy asked the president's task or the first lady of the elementary auditorium stage lunchroom gym clapping our cardboard milk cartons upon which there were no faces for no one was lost and everyone found that extra nickel in the milk money pile on fridays the chocolate milk holidays while jessica L had plenty to sell off in haughty smiles while her mom a lunchroom monitor did just that though now i wonder is that how it was and is that how the buzz of foreign bombing the static-y footage on CNN invaded one and then another girl scout kuwait troop meeting in the self-same place the space in which egyptian jewelry matched red cotton-poly blend tube dresses fresh from the fabric store adored by princesses who would never need glasses for the seeing is quite far enough and the tan and brown tiles on for miles of wall stalled out on the early morning drop-off club i love you and you can do your homework with all of your friends pretend with juice and bleary smile away on down the road

justwrite 13 september

an endcrawl across the universe a diverse invariable experience while we gently sleep in near-exhaustion a defrosting of the cake with mistakes sliced away the stage of the game where the frame is deleted around the edges the wedge too thick to stick on a plate the state of the union spooning in swooning delight a frosting goodnight sweet on lips hip to a hopping scene instigated by a dated tune the pulse of no way horizons body education digested into corrected danger the strangers of anachronism a schism of toes and blowing-by vegetables unstable on a diagonal table a fable with no ending tending toward breakfast the thought like a physical that you pass with glass in the ears and fears in the stomach tucked up theatrically modernly a quadrilateral organic movement a musical improvement on the half-note smote like a doting iron flattening the lateral motion a scent of devotion gone pale like a moon out of tune on fifth street discreet without subtitles the files corrupted saved over popular culture through a green straw raw and cut up in carrots sparing each celery calamity broken up and thrown with spontaneous paint let's just put on a show

small slice of my collective memory of pizza

------9-12-08 small slice of my collective memory of pizza

Ben and I had a medium ‘works’ (usually pepperoni, sausage, onion, green pepper, ham, and olives, but we did sans the olives and ham) pizza from Papa John’s tonight, delivered. With breadsticks, delivery fee, and tip, it came to $25.00! Oh my Gosh. One of my first thoughts is that my ancestors are rolling in their grave… but I don’t know if Grandma Strasser or Grandma Pillock made pizza or ate much of it… I’m sure they did, even without confirmation.

There always seem to be little pizza joints in the little Pennsylvania towns when we visit …even today.

And it didn’t even occur to me to feel too guilty about having a pizza made by someone else other than my mother or myself until I was almost done cleaning up, wiping off the table. Usually I feel that pang when I order or eat it, or ifts a frozen one, when I cook it or buy it.

I think I was too tired, it being Friday night and all, after a long week of work to think more about it… or, I am finally lightening up on myself! I like that idea even better.

So, anyway, I am trying to not completely plow through the breadsticks and garlic butter which I eat the majority of, and having one, two, and the final third piece of pizza…

When I realize upon cleaning up, also, that 3 pieces of pizza is what I had on my 8^th birthday. It always makes me feel like a pig to say that, but it’s the truth. For some reason, that number- having 3 pieces on my 8^th birthday- really stays in my collective memory of pizza.

I was a fat little kid, and did not thin out to average size until 8^th and 9^th grade. It was such a relief to be normal sized. I love it, still to this day, being about average size for my height, or even a little under or a little over over the years.

Sometimes I think tht’s why the whole eating better and staying thin or average weight doesn’t stick. I am just a fat kid inside this average looking body… and it goes very deep, my comfort in food.

justwrite 12 september

there is a mountain a fountain pen away which you can't miss so a chance glance forward will keep you forewarned of the storming backbay region with the seasoning too orange for contagion raging through chevrolet parking lots the turkey trots of middle school autumns walking up to the high school the track clapping up the asthma with white air and flannel shirts tucked in sucking up the pride riding high past guidance counselors and instructors of various kinds of diverse minds on the value of high-priced sneakers the tennis shoe beakers experimenting with our toes and where we go from no one knows where sharing our common laces the great escape is a common mistake we all dream about while digging our toes into the dirt this here is my flowerbed and instead of rushing for gold i'd like to hold your hand a little closer and light a fire beside the one restaurant but it's a bonfire and we'll hire the volunteer fire company that's number three and we'll see who sets those matches a-catchin' we'll hatch those plans before they fly the coop roost the toaster oven with pop-up ads far off in a different scheme with the twisting bits and tomato pips fried into the grilled cheese squeezing butter into the brownwheat pores the wholegrain frame of reference given slight deference with food coloring and caramel numbering up and down the stories of our fathers' stores and what they sold and what they stole and how the whole became half and whether we ought to laugh at the stockings we hang on our own noses growing pinnochio toes and dancing woodenly about the shop stopping at a glance of light and wondering for a blue fairy

justwrite 11 september

long live the river giving a remote chance of hope damaged in a groping chokehold emboldened by the riches stitched into the bank and yanked off in muddy hunks the trunks of a thousand trees trembling in the breeze made of fishes and twitching in conditions unimaginable marktwain twofathomable the true mammal in its own hairy design a warm-blooded fine signing off the chimney tops and stopping up the tip-top sidewalk sopping the soup into two troops one which is the brownies and one the townies clowning around in somehow superior smug interiors so much closer with a remote fur keeping toes warm on the linoleum storm swarming for a reason to continue to hold and this is the half-truth that i stole this is the earth that plugs the hole and swallows whole the porcupine allowance dancing dangerously in your throat a moat of meant-to pass-throughs a challenge to juggle puddles befuddled by a hundred cuddling eggplants shiny on each others' skin nestling into the curves of black gloss too close to floss between with viney themes in misty dreams tearing up the square plots into roving fiction no sense of prediction could grasp from the past just a blast toward the future can suture together those disparate times calling for desperate measures and feathered bangs hanging their watched pots out to boil

justwrite 10 september

long lines stride limbs climbing into the distance the resistance leastways pathed into the math like dividing scissors slicing the park into the dark the gravel travelling underfoot hoofing it in slower bits but the bliss is in the gliding stride the ride of a lifetime strung forward into lifelines trying forward frying footprints into unmentionable tension the retention of these dimensions while branching out into a sprinting tree like a bicycle wheel feeling its own way finding its own song without pedals no metal just barred petals sparring with the air the dicing of icing in the breeze the sweet sneezes of incidental spring in autumn harboring hopes of skipping winter and splintering off in awkward substitution where the flakes shake off right into the trough of an april goat coated in a remote chance of apple pie in the sky which is to say delicious and the piece to remember is returned to each sender in a tender care package

justwrite 9 september

getting started seems to be the hardest parting of the red sea and be seen a candlelit scene in an empty parking lot chalking up the waffles to indiscrimination a creation of conversations replayed in claymation where the orange won't rhyme and the purple turns into popsicles dropping sickle pears off with their closest homophones the standalone suggestions of misdirections correcting every other color black and back on track like a cracker topped with cheese and trees breezing through the way the stay of execution an inconvenient solution polluting truth with uncouth youths the challenges of pitfalls and curtain calls stalling in an abyss like falling down and missing the floor a storage locker full of garage sales a flailing hoop and a wailing wall whaling in the hall which is a strait which concentrates on losing letters and 5/4 measures slightly overdone like overgrown eggs and a breakfast recital facing up to denial of the corn flakes with shaky hands i think i can but the scan of the table leaves me quite unable to stabilize my rising desire for sugar on top ever since camp and damp clumps of granular lumps crystally in a dining hall i knew it all was lost and sense was tossed backcourt while i forded oceans in extreme devotion to the real dream team steaming their golden way through onscreen play in the basement a space meant for folding clothes and chilly toes too deep to meet the summer heat and a driveway away from home alone

justwrite 8 september

a recommendation:
wait until the light turns green
turn on the slipstream and slide inside hiding no faces and wasting no tastes
there are circles in your eyes
there are triangles between now and then and something else
everything one hundred eighty degrees
in the shade
cool angles trying their smoothest to change the channel
wait until the flannel shirts this!
there are no buttons worth keeping
the leaps of faith required by admired children are staggering
hot air balloons of guidance counselor potential
purple principals overwhelmed with pride
there are no acceptable ways to wear that shirt
you're going to have to change your name
wait until no one's looking
cook your bookbag in a stewpot
catch as catch cannery rows of mice
men in the kitchen naming their placed bets
way out in the avocado jungle
uncles and kittens and unremitting debts
inadmissible in a court of course
the horse following the cart
departing from the station at a quarter to chicago
you were there too
expanding the map with your folding hands

plant lady appears to be

plant lady appears to be in the cafe with us right now she is in the room with us can't you see her? The thing is, when she leaves Tennessee and appears in Frederick, and most especially at the Market St. Starbucks-
She is-
you guessed it-
Invisible!
I am plant lady with all my new plants I got Saturday. But really, the fresh flowers are my favorite.
Both my mother-in-law and mother gave us fresh bouquets and Mary Jane's (my mother in law) has all purples, greens, and yellows.
I used to have all kinda of awesome flowers when I lived in Martinsburg 10 years ago.
It's hard to believe it's been that long, but that is the summer flower garden I gave my heart and soul to, that I extended and grew Cosmos 5 feet high-
I have a picture of me with it- Sherry and Don took it-
and that I had my Tobacco Jasmine that was most fragrant at night and I got my scheme, of red petunias with yellow something laid about it.
And it hasn't been the same since.
I have lived in 3 places in Frederick since then, and have not experienced such unbridled fredom with flowers since then.
I don't know exactly what it was-
a good spot- enough sunshine?
a landlord who didn't care how far I extended the bed... who was just so grateful for a tennant beautifying his property of my old rented Martin St. Martinsburg house... I don't know what it was.
Don't get me wrong- I have had flower beds since then- well, 1, and some pots... who knows maybe next year will be the year.
Ortho, anyone?

justwrite 7 september take twoo

wait until i retype this
there were lines well-rehearsed
i reached out for a hand
the hours slapped away minutes
lingering on the seconds
your hands tell a better time
lit by light through a window
an opportunity for clarity
but all those words
gone again
there were squares dared into triangulation
there were situations fit to outgrow
when i call your name i answer
myself a window
grow into the sky
tossing apples into the trees
freezing summer in citrus slices
there are better ways to say this
thank you for your patience
save your drafts
celebrate argyle anniversaries with pie
this gazebo beyond the caution tape
ready for the great finding
gazing and minding manners matters
seek and we shall and we do

justwrite 6 september

a wind blinded by vinyl

squeaky clean like a record with no groove

moving to the rhythm of a thousand ferris wheels

the real deal is stealing copper

the cowboys and the robbers free to pay their own way

feet of clay jogging around the ceramic track

spinning in ellipses

tripping on dots clotted at the ends of middles of lines

defining our newsreels in surreal judgement

let me have your handkerchief

please don't ask for it back

when i'm ready i will give forgiveness

saving the bigness of an awkward moment

straying from the wrong day into right

the left day into night

the air that blows is too cold for these toes

these wires always crossed

bossed around by suspended parentheses 

these are the voyages

the toy chests

wait until the bill comes in

then we'll see who stay and who pays

there are no reasons to tune in to this moon

wait and sea and season the salt

below the colors and into the numbers

waiting for the subtraction of additional answers

dancing in abstraction

i'm sorry again

let's pretend a different picture

justwrite 5 september

that's a lot of scot-free tissue
blissing on a marketable dream
the steam too clean for forgiveness
wait until the shark attacks!
wait until the snack bites back!
there are stripes on this tiger
and the apple have thorns
vegetables are their own reward
convenience is its own destruction
i will build you a landfill
you can stop by any time
mine for yours
call all your keepers of promises
and trappers
blitz them and their zipper pockets for pencils
interdimension tension too sharp
quarks are their own invention
the best of intentions stored up in glorious relief
weep and you shall find
tine your forks with gold
there are no bars holding you back caulfield
i am back where i started
tarting up that four-part harmony
a ceremony of skipping
there are no trips available for that price
a tutor would suit her better
letters in order seek postage stamps
lamps brighten the night in situational switching
cheers for jeers beers steers into wheels
does your mother know your temperature
waiting sure enough for the cup to overflow
crowing to eat fit and fit to eat crow

justwrite 4 september

all of these people
carving steeples out of the sky
shouting how high
so loud in the crowds
shrouded in resilient complacency
a ziploc bag of butterscotches
cellophane stains on opportune teeth
meeting across the aisles horizontal
the orthodontal collisions
a smiling incision into forgiveness
the missing hymnal pages
the wages twice paid
the lemonade and grape juice sermons
disturbing murmurs from the bull bearers
marketing these tendencies
to be self-evident
a hesitant conjecture
a mixture of supposition and lavender
the colander clogged with dates
times defined by confines
anytime
after 3:30 and before 5
not until my pencil sharpens
spit back wit in the chewing gum quiet
a spearmint diet and a try-it badge
catching all three and connecting four
pouring more ice into your glass
boring your fashion sense
into submission
wait until you try this on
wait until the lights are gone
down through the curtains
drawn in certain balance
a valence and a sit-upon
a long-gone timepiece
a sliver of silver seconds
precious minutes definite and otherwise
disguised as surprise

justwrite 3 september

plant lady appears in a clear stairwell staring back at the track of bricks clicking their way up the wall in terracotta lines the vines chiming into circumstantial importance focusing the spotlight on a dot like stippling like pointy points the anointing of pinky fingers like shingles on an imagined roof the truth spoken in token appearances here is the wife of bath and here is the cash crop boiling over and over a stove full of heat and cheaty moves when you jump two and knit three and purl four hurling more quickly than sand through the hourglass a class-action retraction clacking over the bridge and cackling a twinge of regret for the ducks that we bet our shouting on the doubt is gone but a strong-armed patriarch could park his car and steel guitars in bizarre chords fording a nation of rivers to hold back forgiveness the bigness of design and the finetooth combs of bone and nail and hearty sale-shopping the stopping before the go and the wondering who knows and how goes the endless rhyme scheme a dream team of marmalade in spades with scones waylaid and played off of each other with awkward mothers' blessings teaching backward lessons unlearned with a grade on the scale of failing hopes soaped up and ready for a slipandslife spaghetti steamroller surprise with green straws in your eyes a marketing disguise themed as homecoming as stunning in a three-piece alarm clock a block and tackle routine with dreams of serpentine surrender to flannel panel sheets discreet in complete indifference

justwrite 2 september

c is for carefully constructed prompt a collision of division and a kaleidoscope of hopes with a k instead of a c and a you in addition to me and if you please the trees will grow into fours with the addition of doors like for elves or smaller selves slipping through the key hole and vanishing into rigmarole a guacamole station tuned in with hesitation and tortilla chips an avocado blitzed by sour cream and steamed sunshine which is a tomato in its prime time special quenching dressing with simpler lessons like vines and green leaves pleased to make your acquaintance and to chance that salad in a circumstantial ballad with slippers stippling the floor the stage a more precise canvas than the last blast of apple cores provided for like marines with submachines and latrines plus tangerines on a snowy shore of memory a movie trailer to pack up and camp in 'cause you can't swing a dingdong without paying the daylong superstore price with a discount if you buy it twice yes seemingly nice but biking away from that playground we've found in our own circular see-saw and claiming new names for each change of scenery the orangeade and the greenery waiting for the coast to clear and the ghost to appear with a steer in its wheel and a real feel of hey what got cut off there and where can i climb back on like a song with rhyming lines that chime at the end and make friends with limes and pretend it all makes all makes sense

justwrite 1 september woo!

in the circle of spinning wheels
i found what i was looking for
it turned out to be a sandwich
around me the turns turned out to thread
to long lines
well-defined in strength and color
in a general sense
though strands in hand
and on real reels
felt inconsistent to the eye
non-existent as defined previously
personality leaning hard on fact
turning back to the sandwich
gold into straw
coleslaw a senseless side
hiding a tomato sliver
forgiving an attempt to garden
a smart idea
a field trip rewarded
bread instead of anything else
i love you more than toast
but toasted cheese
indeed
these are the scramblings of eggs
wondering what happened to hatching
wondering if ham is catching
and what would it do if it did
let me tell you
i have known rivers/ mountains
i have slept long hours
i have forgotten the next line
wait until the candle goes
we two shall follow too
holding our homophones close
most personal most holy spelling
whitewashing the double-spacing
erasing with chasing commentary
wiggling lines reclining in questioning pose
what do you suppose was meant here
steering clear through to morning
blank pages of excellent opportunity
college-ruled lines/ pencils