justwrite 13 december

with my back to the oven the keys are too cold to hold in the palms of my fingers so the olives and the oil and the greenapple bubbles have just got to go to keep the flow growing fast and catching the last blast of summer the backward number up the hill on its way down sledding in the sleeting fleeting weather feathered into my coat like a thousand goats of unexplained origins bringing peas and carrots to the capital the yapping full of noise and joyous september the remembering of physical strain and the chain of a gangplank walking through the eggplants entranced by where chickens come from first and foremost and forewarned is nothing in this landscape this case has yet to be solved by a king or a common law with inherent flaws but longevity enhanced and the stance i plan to take is in favor of yes and against fancy dress except in the situation where hesitation is seen as incorrect and the wreck of the typewriter is its own reward for the scores of math cast aside in favor of language the tea steeping words into ways and i mean business here not thrift nor a shift too short for school or a tank too ruled by fuel to mend its ways with a needle stuck in a haystack or neglecting the hatrack for whose head is cold anyway not mine i'm fine just dandylion thanks