justwrite 27 december

i am no longer interested but instead too tired for a headache to overtake my yawn the wideopen stoppers popping off the top of whistles twisting the sound out of my mind and away into the subzero tomorrow it's cold and it's holding its own hand very close all the numbers slipping away in red and black suits in cahoots with royalty spoiling the meat and the plans in their scans expensive and intensive like beets dying red and surprised at the lack of stacking blocks linking the logs together in historic harmony and let me just tell you i don't know what to say or who to play in this scene but the words i've been using must be out of date must be musty and the only ones answering are cats and children and i can hear but i cannot speak the answer the chances dancing backward over the moon or some other such direction and the correction tape is too white too bright to see through and i'm telling you something but it sounds like nothing and the circle is getting smaller the road is getting staller like a miracle of distance the speed and the time never rhyming with real poetry but snowing accidental overtones and undercoats mispronounced and pounced on like fire too fast for remembrance