justwrite 9 december

quiet disarray slices open the grapefruit by which i mean space and the lime times rhyme with no moss carry no cross to bear in boring beats through unswept streets and the feet that pass by the open sky are surprisingly high on the walk the sideways talk absurdly curbed like expectations and fascination worth repeating in discreet fleeting glances the chances of an echo breaking on the sidewalk again with the same image the collision of division when faced with multiplication the fascination with trials that spout into tribulations with no hesitation and the motion is subtle but the airwater bubble pops and drops a cheap payload in the middle of the road less taken the one often mistaken as yellow the fellow travelers having unraveled each backward step into neglecting the map and collecting collapsing traps like for flies or disguised eyeballs calling all kettle drums tumbling down the broken crumbs of a cake after the fact a tragic tract of land expanding its own ventures into the capital a cap full of detergent and an emergent democracy and would you believe it if i told you so and so what but the better butter has no mother and no waiting for the changing of the station in frustration in the seeking of a bleak future tense but let's not mention that let's trap our hands in our pockets and see what needs to be saved like lint from flit and sticks from chop the backwards crops of a different era to compare the dishes with vicious teeth to the wreath on your door a gaping mouth seeking more jingle more bell and a heartwarming smell to boot