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