Thursday, December 31, 2009

post 31 december

justwrite 31 december

when we add up our fireworks we will wonder what we’ve come to and the answer is not a number the answer is a struggle against the dark or some other such muddle I have trouble telling the day from the night sometimes but if you multiply the windows across from mine with the numbers of trees and the bulbs strung along the watchtower you will find it’s all calling birds and the turtledoves will not be shoved out of the way for some stupid golden ring-a-dings those have gone on long enough and there’s a listener to bluff and a pod to cast or a rod to throw before the pearls turn to swine we are fine and we are dandy you are sweet like sugar candy between my toes there was some sandy bit of summer and the beach reached far into my closet the closest place I have to hide the sand is wide and the cars swerve easily the mystery of who bought the most bread is hidden instead and easily led at the bottom of the basket those tasks not crossed off are buffeted and not buffeted which as I see now look the same and when I claim to know the words it’s just absurd as I’m sure you’ve heard by this point but we anoint ourselves as experts or sometimes others do and you can’t help but wish you were deserving and also wonder what the house beside’s serving like corn pudding in a stove that works or if those lurks those shadows have left their trail of breadcrumbs leading to the right door

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

post 30 december

justwrite 30 december

there are scores being kept there are more than four and on and on the milk goes out for a drink and never comes back takes a blink in the back corner and turns away all comers I have been counting those numbers and they don’t add up there are suppers those pups have not yet doggedly avoided there are kittens catty-corner from those dormer windows those gables unable to see anne from the isle the aisle for walking down the talk of some town and the baby of some neighbor all for cooking garlic all for keeping up with the jones family robinson the swiss pile of chocolate the banks the holding tanks full of thanksgiving and also of cranberries and while I am wary of the implications I find fascination in those united nations of cans those jars with their lips open wide and ready for summer I am pickled with delight I am frightened to joy of fruit the boiling sugar surprise eager for these eyes to eat whole and my soul will grow strong with rivers of songs but mainly of apricots and also of strawberries I am ferried across this frozen gray stream by a glimmering green dream a golden weaving of warmth I will stretch across the window to see how it catches the light and delight is yours for the sharing we are wearing our garlic smiles tonight but we are also imagining tangerine clouds down the hallway slipping out from under glowing doors full of the plunder of holiday

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

post 29 december

justwrite 29 december

moved into the corner there are dusty attempts to determine the direction there are corrections to be made the holiday parade is off from the normal schedule we can not help ourselves but braid our wealth into our hair we compare the strands with hands and all those laid to waste with body guards a-tinglin’ we are wingin’ those chickens and flickin’ the ashes into space with all those g’s and the trees grew up from mexico into Canada and that’s what happens when I listen to music at the same time the butterfly rose out of the curtains every time she smiles which took her everywhere and also backstage the phase will pass the raise will glass over and the drilling will be filling its own red light its district will be quick to thicken like cornstarch of the heart tired of the attention trying to add a dimension of a sense of a sort cavorting with the sort of vagabonds rarely strong-armed but still lookin’ like a saint down the hallway something funny in the air the stare backward to look for the title and if it’s found you’re deserving of a refund it can’t be fun to read over something of that sort but you couldn’t be surprised you could say so but I’d know otherwise without the jack of hearts not even blinking

Monday, December 28, 2009

post 28 december

justwrite 28 december

earth people I was going to tell you something but then you interrupted me you climbed that crazy tree and you made a face you escaped the grace of the clouds and you ate dinner right out loud in front of everyone and the sun and the moon swooned to imagine you grabbing those teeth from the dishwasher your drinking water has got to be brushed and if it’s too tough for you to chew then imagine you will ride the bus and I’ll walk let’s talk about this tomorrow let’s set a schedule and meet by the hour I will tower my ankles above those grassy plains as you explain why the grains ought to be whole and the wholly open targets are aiming for the bulls and we are full of macaroni we are only what we make ourselves to eat and the tea was sweet without the defeat of a second helping I am overheating the drive and the external journals will print news of this will blissfully unaware stare into the sofa and loaf around we have towns to paint different colors of red and of green and in between the holidays we will play our heartstrings singing carols and also marias and hail all these songs the long cold nights bite us in the comfort we are turning onward over all those soldiers marching in the silence the defiance of snow that refuses to be rain although I heard it again this morning on the window it couldn’t stay certain when I opened the curtain or more truthfully blinds the horizontal kind lined with dust and occasional wrinkles aren’t we all but sometimes we turn toward the brighter glass and look outward instead of in

Sunday, December 27, 2009

post 27 december

justwrite 27 december

when I see that I want to rhyme remember I want to chime tender leaves greener than the courtyard as it melts there is asphalt now and below the snow there is space for basketball not all pounding is on a rug not all shrugs are sweaters and the better off the roundabout the softer the pout turns to be the rice and the cheese and the mistaken pleas are wheezing their way forward a smokestack attacks the brighter colors and wipes the dirt away lets winter have its say and again and the fire doesn’t work but the crackers keep telling how it is and it’s big and the wig doesn’t fit and the stockings are brown but on the other side of town there are languages that make sense more than phonetically to me but it’s not a competition there’s something missing and it’s not space there’s more than a trace of that more than a stance to dance with shoes off onto the couch and slouching into nonverbal hurdles I am tripping over my flippers again and the sand is caught in my ears I am too awake to hear how many hours I have to sleep and is twelve too deep to measure how should I spend such leisure and where are those priorities deploring fleas and imagining trees with caps on all along the mulberry bushes the jellies and the jams on the freshpicked hams there are piglets in the freezer and monkeys in the cupboards and I think I’ll stick with soup

Saturday, December 26, 2009

post 26 december

justwrite 26 december

I am going to tell you something real and you will feel there’s a difference a glimmering whisper of sense although I usually mention much less reasonable items today I was cooking I was looking outside and I was gathering ingredients there was a half a sky of sun and the slants over the buildings used the views to dry varied laundry and assorted rugs and the dustier ones were given massages of a forceful sort beaten full of sunlight as the dirt flew away there were loud sounds resounding across the courtyard and you’d think hardly reasonable and wouldn’t someone protest wouldn’t someone neglect the soup and turn to yell out the window hey you kids that’s enough or to call last night’s bluff those men in the rain singing out pain or hilarity in occasional harmony after a few rounds of the block taking stock of what they have and finding each other there are numbers we can’t add up ourselves but today from my shelves I drew down a recipe that perplexed me into poetry there were vegetables and the troubles they found themselves in sought light and water and escape from the dark earth the roots of their lives they found surprise in the sink and drank deeply and in the pot not ten minutes later the beet danced alone stronger than the others and requiring more time to contemplate the heat to seek out safety and to offer a hand to the carrots to follow and their fellow potatoes and what I heard as I made my lists and counted fists full of wants and needs was exceeding joy dancing in a covered pot poetry that’s not meant to be read but to be felt instead bouncing off the insides the metal laughing back as the beet playfully attacked each edge of the stage no sage could build an easier demonstration no consternation of interpretation just fascination with this beet meeting itself in the dark and dancing in the boiling heat of an antiquated stovetop

justwrite 25 december

when we take these steps we remember what’s next has little to do with what’s past we have the rest of our lives to surprise ourselves our lesser elves our greater gift-givers we shiver our way to warmth we resort to resorts we retort to unkind inkind donations our frustrations are easily seen in between our ears we fear to open our mouths too wide lest the moths run and hide inside escaping from the park into the dark and waiting for the morning the dawning the yawning impossibility of lonely sleep when in the deep the velvet cake is a sweet escape I’m ready to make a trip of that sort I’m ready to retort with torte and also with language the spin within a thousand rounds of rebounding vision I am summarizing revision but in the meantime you may think I’m making all this up this elaborate ruse to confuse the illusions to confess a profusion of blotters all the ink fit to think spins these needles and pins those wheedling tongues down to a dollar less a pound or maybe it’s more like a meter a neater fit to be tied and if you hide your mittens from those bad kittens then they’ll just have to best your rukavetz your gloves your supposedly multilingual triangles of stitching letting out the stuffing from a tough-enough day no warning for such a morning no lock for such a stock on sale to no avail but once I have a calendar we’ll see who’s blurring the lines between the best and worst of times

Thursday, December 24, 2009

post 24 december

justwrite 24 december

there’s a pile of water over there and it’s fair or unaware or staring backward tomorrow I will take a different bus I will make a fuss out of my hat and there will be cats a-plenty we went our separate ways those salad days and also heaps of suggestions I am teaching myself lessons I am catching on in different directions we are trying to keep our faces occupied while our knees carry out other plans I have a command of this post I am making the mist I am boasting like a roast apple with a lollipop in its mouth as I travel south under my pillow I am pretending that this call will come through that this all will be true and sensemaking in the morning we are dawning early we are hurrying up and slowing down at the same time of day the same way to ply those cards straight or hard to follow to wait for a bite on the calf or to laugh when your feet slip farther down into the sound of the waves saving themselves from a different health I have sent my elf packing tracking all that data that matters I have gathered a few books and a coffee cup and that’s about what I think I’ll need and if you’re agreed we’ll buy flour tomorrow and drown our sorrows in air fresheners by which I mean groceries the most we see and the best we can do the root vegetables true and far between the scenes gleaming in their sequined suits in pursuit of sense I can not help but mention we are caught in different directions and the net can’t help but break

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

post 23 december

justwrite 23 december

as we remember we are waiting we are stating the claims we are naming names and the games we play are too far too hard to prosper I am offering all the digits we begin it again and the trend can not be traced I am erasing the space between I am saving the grace for the queen to say she plays her part she starts to tart up the piglets in a row and the cook simply says this has to go so the gardener hardens her hands and makes simple demands like seeds and plants her needs in the middle of the field seeking some sort of yield not always of the high variety but I can tell you are well prepared you are scared of the results but the tumult is to be expected you have not neglected your study in the country of history in the service of mystery I am inventing a black cat to follow down the hallway I am staying out of trouble I am mumbling the troubling bubbles and they pop in drops of rain in spains of plainjane daffodils I am spilling up and over and clover grows in rows although my nose does not suppose itself too healthy with the wealth of wind spinning and spending itself dry I am rewiring the cannonballs and I am hauling some of those dreams back to the drawing board because I have ignored those calls long enough and I am ready to bluff the tougher stuff straight through until morning

justwrite 22 december

when the ever comes up I will pick up this cup and I will sink into drinking there are berries and we are comparing the apples with the fruits of slow pursuit I am ready for a bite and the warm is a storm brewing behind cold elbows unexpected we have neglected for too long those strong winds in the background and now they drown only their own efforts we are laughing at their failure and flailing at our successes we are making messes out of molehills and so then where shall we live how can we give our answers can we take our chancers and dance with reindeer on the rooftops what is a holiday what is knowledge and what do different letters spell in the same language as well we wish we hope to dish out oatmeal and other such warmth I am waiting for the kettle I am turning into pepper and also salt I am yearning for some spice I can not name my tongue waits and all that comes is parsley all that hums is nicely frayed confusion I am set up with illusions of the spirited sort cavorting with lights and trees and the breeze again always mentioned my friend I have got to tell you there are no carrots like these there are no beets unable to sneeze in such a row they’ve got to go elsewhere they’ve got to wear hats or maybe just aprons I am shopping for napkins but only when I need them I am reaching for a suggestion box but maybe it overflows I am planning to sneeze but only when I least expect it

Monday, December 21, 2009

post 21 december

justwrite 192021 December

there are worse letters to write but this night I have not got the fingers to tell about it not sought the version to yell it though I am listening through the walls and the tell-alls are speaking a different variant they are comparing the salt and the tumult we are here-here and there-there and there is no way to compare pairs of pants and peppered romance with the curried hurry waiting up and down the aisles imagining the smile of a future child to have and to hold on a sled easily led through fantasy when the breeze blows chilly into the lemons into the rugs beaten in the courtyard into the trashpile irrespective of the bins the spin easily shaken off I would cough but you would worry I would wish that we could hurry up more slowly I have got to know we will make sense of this one I wish for fun and for answers I would like to know the chancers and the taken I am mistaken if I imagined tragedy would come only to a p.o. box I have gotten talked out of this one I haven’t got the mettle for the kettle to call it all black I will keep track of those painted flowers and wonder how they grow what they show in response how they flaunt their sidewalks who talks back when they all try to listen what vegetables glisten in the cheapest of pursuits I imagined I saw a river but perhaps it was in cahoots with the overlooking castle wrastling out the cobblestones from their icy zones and seeking to be caught in the right net I would bet I’ll eat in I would try to catch the spin and toss it back it would be easy to keep track if I had a scoreboard or a map right now the north collapses and the south spins again onto triple word score

justwrite 1718 dec

I can hardly begin to tell you how well your mouth matched up with those unheard of words it seemed you had the snow glowing in the globe all ready to shake up all happy to make up and grow over it to work through the ice and make nice I am thankful for these fingers I am taking my numbers I have a shabby set of digits but I am adding them up I have got to adopt the right bite my teeth and a leash do not go together I am remembering forever I am shivering and delivering a post full of cards a yard full of hardfought victories there are sleds instead of sense and what’s more is that the war can’t be won the store can’t be bought and you ought to just light those candles in the meanwhile we are hiding our riding boots we are in cahoots with sound we are rounding the next corner we are warming up disorder and shouting about like leaves in the trees that have all forgotten to sneeze at the same time and with this line of reasoning the seasoning might as well be a kilo of salt and a halt to healthy wealth we are keeping our instincts intact we are exacting a bit of revenge but it’s hard to tell to whom on what in which direction I have not yet gotten a map I have trapped my goals that used to be on hold I have roped them into a kaleidoscope and spun them right round setting records baby right roung

justwrite 16 december

it’s not safe to open those skins the mandarins are complicated the faded glory stores its own worst regrets the bets are off the scoffing has been done the rearranging wrung out to dry the trials the errors compare our staring we are caring and carrying out missions missing our marks and collecting our A’s we are making our ways forward and into the earth the worst the best of times I am lining the chalk with a board I am storing up rote memory I have a shivery liver and I am coughing with a turn to the left we have the best ideas we have no wires to conspire through over into and with you there are answers and into your free chancers the cellars the sellers the doors the adorable scores set out to dry in the sunshine we are arriving fine and late and dandy and waiting for our candy to be delivered we are bigger than our regrets we have left out those ideas those bigger problems are in the stockings their stalking feet outside the darkened windows the velvet curtains pulled uncertainly tight we are biting each others’ tongues and stopping up the words we wanted to have heard I am younger than I imagined but older than the tragedy you thought would eat you alive but you have survived and here we clearly are

justwrite 15 december

now that we are well aware the staring the caring is too unfair the share too worse the wear I am carrying out the side dishes wishing for fishes to call out the trout the doubts are unforeseen the queen has not been that hive does not thrive except for the leapt forward hours the towers two and three the reasons we can not recount the amount I have here is zero we fear our mirrors but we are waiting to excel we are powering the points the words absurd and published the triumph over the hump and the lump in some other throat is too remote to chance to leave the dance early the juice is too red and the days I spent instead of fed just hungry I am among these options I have adopted the right attitude and the rudest of times leads to the longest of climbs what are we waiting for who are we meeting more often than not than have gotten into the methods the west was won the

justwrite 14 december

the extent of this tent is to put itself up we are stuck the ducks are flying and we are hiding each siding the glass tasking itself we are in health we are stealthing elves up to the pole the north the whole world loves it when we send our presents we are dependent on our foes we show our appreciation through the designation of numbers our others our best kept secrets have leapt from each page we are the rage we are the machine we are in evidence already presented I have sent my best on ahead and I am waiting with the reserves having served tea and also doughnuts I don’t know what’s expected but I am besting the directions with the corrections I received in yesterday’s post I am hosting the web instead of sending behind the times the classified ads I have scads of time to read I will indeed feed the chickens and they will hatch and I will catch up I will snatch cups full of hops and pop on over audaciously the clover removing the glow worms from the storm the norms and the queries the weary and the traveler unraveling her hair and setting it up for the night out of sight and no mind at this time we will see and say and play as we may in the right key to unlock the next box

justwrite 13 december

I am coming this way again we are thinking about pretending to know we are showing up early and going home late there is no wait for the weary the travelers know only the road it’s ahead and behind the mind defines each time the rhymes can’t climb faster than each disaster past and on and passed along and we see the future sutured with the present but we are hesitant to take a bite since it might just hurt and we might have worked hard for nothing we might fight our own goals digging holes with our hands and jumping in with our feet in indiscreet decisions we live for revisions but we write for the right to reunite what we meant with the words we sent the actions we tented up and camped inside of hiding each bluff strong enough to lead to the water patient enough to let ourselves drink blinking eyes and lights with green highbrights from blue eyes and brown and the town doesn’t matter just the connection comes through and the true tones phone no one’s alone and no one’s grown too big to care too far to fare worse the wear and selling wares we brought from there is not much of a venture we are looking for new capital we are putting on fancy dresses to impress us in our own mirrors I am leaning nearer and checking for errors comparing the wearer now and then and wondering when each package will be delivered when the shivers will go away and the fever will have someone else’s day

Saturday, December 12, 2009

post 12 december

justwrite 12 december

we are sending our fenders out to be remembered I have fevered up those bones and I am looking for another set to catch that tea before it loses another leaf before it sets its motions into different oceans I am seeking a sense of taste I am wasting my calories on the breeze which I gulp down hounding the folks on the beach the reach upclose the most and the best and the guess is correct that you’ve made and the shade comes down but there’s no worry in this town it’s early and we’ve barely begun to come undone I have sung a different song with the words I heard while I was asleep I am keeping promises that matter I am hatting the batter and baking it up I could cup those pancakes in my hands I could handle some commands but I’d rather be asked I am up to the task I am dying my fair I am brushing my hair I am claiming a name and staking the same on a flag I would drag upwards without having read it closely soon or a moon away I am staying focused on the hocus and the pocus the hopes we have pinned are popping some balloons but others are appearing and what we might be fearing will be gone tomorrow or better or terrible but wearable with jeans and those scenes we’ve rehearsed to prepare for the worst will go without scripts anyway and we’ll stay ahead instead of whining behind because really come on and along and we will

justwrite 11 december

hold the phones that scandal’s much too shoeless that truth can not be spoken except for by the token naysayer because then no one will think twice that it’s a device developed by the author and offered up as fact an about face the chase not on the way not strong enough to be imagined I am thinking back to a particular walk and the other side of the sidewalk was darkened by confusion or maybe it was an illusion a ninety percent contusion the reflection not worth mentioning but I didn’t know what to say and another day the same way with wide water in between or maybe a stream but still the same dream the slow motion giving nothing and asking for more answering floor with ceiling and reeling in the film no clips those lips can’t rip off no cough too powerful to imagine full on a strong wind blows and the roses turn to snow we are showing up early and also late and there is no date for the weary the bleary eyes surprised when each peach turns out to be ripe or at least it was recently the best we’ve seen this season and no reason not to pick more except where to store turns out to be the question and you’d think I’d learned my lesson in the last session when I had to stick them in my pockets because I wanted them all right away and always to stay but they were too late to my mouth and I should have known I did know and I said so to myself but aloud I ate to health

Friday, December 11, 2009

post 11 december

justwrite 10 december

pass that trashcan there’s a scan going on and what’s going wrong is going out with the wrinkled up othersuch there is no need to keep all of that and scatter the hopes of organization to tatter the ropes you wanted to climb I am criming the time and spending dimes on broomsticks just forgetting the right twitch to clean it all up I am idealizing the right things to do the right way to say because those seem far away they can’t be said today but there is time there is later and when we fade our screens from these scenes we will jump those ropes over dumped hopes we had no need to eat such sweets we didn’t order those anyway we didn’t know just what to say and when we got those transcripts anyway they didn’t have the right names in the right places and there were big spaces where we thought we’d have results which all just catapults us backward where once there was progress now there’s just less there’s nothing to confess but confusion and the hope that illusions will fade and in their place sense will grow and the reasons though they are fine now will fall into line in time and issue forth and fifth like licked lips ready for what we’ll see we’ll free our tongues in the meantime though

justwrite 9 december

when the speech gets written I will be smitten with the results no matter the tumult no matter I’d rather deliver other language the baggage I am carrying is too heavy to drop it’s a bumper crop today and it’s sway outta hand there are no command keys to enter no sale items to return I am earning little interest in the eyes of the prize I am thinking about goals I am wondering how foals keep moving forward you can see their legs and you’ve got them pegged for falling but onward they go and the snow falls and they dance anyway am I ready to say that’s enough or thank you and still the speech isn’t written I have got to practice it anyway still the words are falling but the snow is too deep to tell still the irony is hot and I’ve got miles to go before I get to kyiv and my sleeves are full of hearts and other parts I can’t translate we are waiting for some other sense to arrive though it might be expensive you musn’t be defensive which here means me which here seems to be the way to go and I grow greener into a variety of colors the painting by numbers has never been enough it’s a tough row to hoe but so let’s do it anyway I am full up on mandarins and salad spins my breakfast bowl holding on to rubber soles and scuffing up the pavement

justwrite 8 december

it’s hard to say which way to feel makes more sense the recompense already paid the state of the union already dissolved solving some problems and creating others there are such a lot of got-to’s I have hopped through and not over the hoops in dispute where the values come through and what is it that makes you and I and we and how high can we go low with other prepositions missing in translation it was not easy to be done and now and how and more to store up and unlock suddenly waterfall cattlecall curtains fall again and again and no hands are clapped although I meant to and I sent you a telegram but that wasn’t in good taste I counted out the words but I meant it in haste and the paste wasn’t cut enough the song wasn’t chorused the rehearsals I meant to say is that what happened or when did that come together and how long forever never was the waiting and there’s no concentrating on any sort of timeline I’m fine and you’ve got yours all in a row and so I wonder and what blunders but no matter as scattering continues should I bring you a something a goodwishes greeting or what fleeting oldfashioned cash will be too expensive to bear can I care more than the shore where the ocean keeps eating up cups of stability and dumping them elsewhere there’s a boardwalk but I can’t talk about that right now my stomach turns at the thought and I’ve got to say something but I haven’t found the script and it’s not like you’re gripped with anticipation at the possibility it’s likely you have no concern and why should you what earns me the right to be frightened out of sense when I have built up my own fence so high and the sun shines daily but maybe there are right words but if there are I still have not heard

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

post 8 december

justwrite 7 december

I am ready to sleep deeper than an ocean of water not like those seas of flowers powering each celebration the fascination with chocolate is warranted but the warranty doesn’t mention anything about teeth the wreath of a wideopen smile has miles to go before it hangs on any such door we are touring up the countryside we are hiding out feet in quilts as the wilted vegetables develop their own irrigation in cartoony fascination I am dreaming of a white knight dawning into righthere he is there but while I build the castle he is finding a place to put it I am not quite sure about that as a tour of fat words thin of meaning but if you’re gleaning any greening then grow what you know so that’s how it goes in the western world and it’s no crime there’s time for every sort of cavorting and if you’re not sporting enough people will bluff your calls and fall your foils into well-oiled fencing did I mention I would like a cat did I tell you there’s no Saturday in the week did I sneeze three times or four and what’s more why can’t I figure it out myself what doubts I must have to be unable to grab at closeup info like that trail into the wildfire jungle so just go the other way if you need to stay busy you can count all the fragments and wonder at the mean and the average and the sum of all numbers the wonders at the water and over the sky so high that must be so trees can see each other and wave to their mothers and wear hats that’s what I said

Sunday, December 6, 2009

post 6 december

justwrite 6 december

we are remembering to remember the ways we forget so we can’t get caught up in that rot again I have bought a ticket and I have licked it with a stamp with damp hopes and the ropes I know are only enough to hang from I am trying to build a bridge I am trying not to talk over anyone else I am listening to my health and spelling all the bees their knees leave a lot to be desired I am waiting to be fired like a pizza oven and besides shoving the sauce out of the way I will say that there are answers to be found under the next slice so it’d be nice to find a serving deserving of attention I am not so pushy I am seldom seen as mushy but the cartoons mean no harm and please don’t be alarmed if the water falls that’s allowed and all and we call our collars and our kettles and we mettle in the affairs of square pegs and the round holes we hold to be self-evident if not slightly less relevant I am baiting my hook and cooking it over easy there are fish flying by but the line leads under water and the glassbottom boat floats but not as reliably on trial I have admired the view from upstairs and below but you know there’s nothing to that other side I’ve tried to warn myself but no one else believes the trees and the attention they give to the other dimensions because it’s clearly not a lookingglass and no one’s eating the apples so we know what that means and we can face that cream with our eyes closed and our teeth open wide not to mention our mouths and the southern exposure that creates with the fates all snipping at the floss and tossing the mill to its flowery fate

Saturday, December 5, 2009

post 5 december

justwrite 5 december

bowling over the ocean the devotion of the masses yearn to breathe free and believe me they have it coming have you seen the numbing answers to space dilemmas have you sucked down that humid air and when you care is it because you ought to is it because they’ve adopted you into the right cause is it an independent clause that gives you pause or is it a reasonable question is there a sense of misdirection while I am watering the garden do those sideways glances harden past the point of nurture who will pull it together when the weather goes cold who will hold hands with the commander in brief without laughing inappropriately when the scene changes and you haven’t rearranged your wardrobe how will you manage with minimal damage what second hand shop will you adopt and who will have been there before who will have scripted that short story in advance who will have danced on the needle of the hetman it’s a club if you must know the hair’s short but it will grow and all those rows of juice lead us to believe we grieved too soon our moons are too many for these weeks the roses that seek to find out are about to expire but the yellow fire is not texas is not Colorado is not any sort of state of being about to be told about to hold gold in the palm of summer which is the air of a number of things most of all the rings that link a very short train remain shiny and tie me to love

justwrite 4 december

when we find our answers we dance into trancers the fancier the scene the less likely it seems that you will relish the pickle that tickles someone else’s fancy I am dancing backward and singing all the words in absurd syllables we are twins we are peeking into the woods and what should we do about it how will we shout it into the wind can I spin a tale tall enough to bluff this listener when you shiver I am cold and I hold in the wind a fresh loaf of bread to feed your nose we suppose this will be harder than it is we imagine the rivers running through it and we prove it on without geometry we I you wonder pronouns in a blunder and when tested I’ll best what’s next and fly directly onward the starboard bough of the tree in the breeze dancing it up the branches of luck your own personal dj ready to play your own hits and misses the battleship this is I mean we’ve seen our questions projected into the abstract the future contracts and suddenly on a train in the rain although let’s make it sunny it’ll cost no money to up that prediction I’ve got quite a few convictions about making it all possible not to say that it’s plausible but maybe we’ll plant hayseeds and see how they grow the garden hardens into likelihood I am working on jerking forward smoothly without rudeness without the awkwardness that accompanies the real deal but you couldn’t steal a truer truth and forsooth and other words come to mind but I find there’s still a blank

Friday, December 4, 2009

post 4 december

justwrite 3 december

from the storm there is a shelter built of norms and outside the wide open road and the flow goes on I have got to show you what I mean along this stream there are seats and steps my heart leapt to your mouth your words I will carry I am staring into stars and the cars that drive have others inside I am on the sidewalk again a wide talk from friends and the invitations standing with not withstanding worth handing off suddenly like arms in a different language that has no word for toes I suppose that’s something that’s been lost it seems unlikely it doesn’t exist or we can just share the bones the structures fair enough all those metatarsals after the rehearsals we all know our lines but no one seems to find the time to deliver them we are without stamps we camp out and wait for the office to open the store to close off the scorn the corner mourner can’t keep up with all the troubles but the bubbles aren’t all bursting I am thirsting for specifics but the something is terrific as far as that goes and the clothes all fit someone else and the health is ready to be studied and the muddied waters are yearning to breathe clean but who am I to mean that I know how I go along merrily the staring goes on subterraneanly and bobby d means a lot to me getting that paid off and coughing back into the lesson

just 2 december no one remembers what happened there or where the letters went well spent I’m sure but what’s more is less than what’s left of that text and I’ll bet someone knows but where that money goes is out the window with no return address

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

post 2 december

justwrite 1 december

while I’m at it there’s a cat in the hat on the bag but the gist of this is the twisty tie that tried to be and to have to skip and to grab lines at random in tandem with the cracks in the sidewalk the backtalk that is a tired pair of calves up for laughs but putting up with sugar there’s a tear in the wear and were we well-prepared where it would show you would know more than just specifics I could spin a terrific tale and the whale of a time you would have trying to find the end or the mouth or the baleen heading south toward jonah or ahab or some sort of captain tracking all the points and adding them up until the prize comes due and I can tell you I am straight through with that game there is no fame worth shaming yourself for but through a different door there might be more exits the successes in translation through better than halting translation means revolving and solving each entrance in its turn I am ready for my closeup and I am wondering when I rose up and asked for this when I tasked each bliss with an objective and what the collective would have to say about the way I move about the groove without songs and the awkwardness along the way I have got to say I am not a native speaker I am holding up this beaker and I am drinking deeper of the unknown and in this zone the time might be fine but I’m sure it’s not mine to have and to hold and when I am old I will fare well but not better I will dress in only green sweaters and there will be no answer you will not believe when it comes out of my mind and into your ear you can hear the truth and you can look it in the face in case it’s looking back at you

justwrite 30 november

now we have reached the end and when we send our congratulations to destinations unknown we will phone our own homes and call back collect we will neglect our breadcrumbs and nibble our thumbs instead we will regret and we will rejoice and the cost will amount to so little that we will whittle sloops out of soap and sail away the yachts have got to be kidding with those sort of cognates but I can’t want until the unwrapping gets done I am feeling quite spun around and aced up like a bandage I can’t handle with my hands lest the commands get reversed and to print is the worst verb to know and so as I go about in one direction or multiple times and determine if foot or vehicle chimes in the best way I have got to stay focused I have hocused all the pocus and there’s still no poof the proof was in the pudding but I ate it instead of dinner I will grow no thinner on these potato pies I will high and ho and away go up and down some stairs I will compare thee to a summer squash a radish I will catch a falling water and I will turn it into language there are rocks that fall but all in all it’s leaves I’m looking for and this is the month although I have a hunch that I might receive a few in the distant future too where too is in addition to nothing like the rushing of water over a creek bed instead of well never mind that’s a good kind to have I meant more like a bike or a desert but it can’t hurt to just let you imagine something else there and it might not be fair but I’m a fan of creativity and the thrill I see in finding out your answers to my doubts is tantamount to a fine time and this is what I’m having we’re grabbing by the horns

Sunday, November 29, 2009

post 29 november

it’s been two months since the hunch came true since the you and the then and the whenever the forever the sense is coming if you can hum along through to the end of the sentence forgive the menace of misunderstanding I was handing you the keys when you said you don’t like to drive so I swallowed them whole and rented out the car to a flock of foxes they don’t like to be a pack or to pack or to track around in circles with the camera turned low there’s a window but you know there’s an opportunity in the next room and when you swoon over those fried eggs we’re begging the question of which direction we’re moving toward and ignoring all those other bothers the brothers and their others significantly chanting and recanting and please recall these details again in three or four or more months because I want to see these faces I want to know the chase is on and when you sing along I am surprised to find you know these words haven’t heard you singing them before but standing outside the door in the morning when you are facing your face and the window is wide open I am asking about tea and you are suggesting toast and cheers we clink and sink into a diamond day the way the song goes but upon a different type of sky and when the pies are ready hold steady and I will be there

Saturday, November 28, 2009

post 28 november

justwrite 28 november

musical clues bruise the ego the eggo won’t let go and I have got to stop the commercial urges the surges without protection the words with misdirection and no correction who says you’re the expert who texts the wreck of the century into action who collects the traps and starts three lines in a row with Cs seizing the opportunity to reformat to retract the offers I am coughing backward and hurrying onward backward forewarned of tomorrow which is yesterday and the way to listen at the same time as writing escapes me but it’s better than the soundtrack in the next room and the way they swoon into translation leaves little to the imagination there is a network found but I am building up from the ground and it’s a little bit muddy and the clothes won’t dry but besides that all of the sausage will fry this is for the others there are places this won’t go and my plate I know is one such zone and the time for credits has come the numbing tendencies away from dependency are coming faster than the blaster of last term with no sense to earn from each line though onward bored and fingers in motion this is my devotion I am straining the ocean the salt through my teeth keeping the fish in check and collecting the rent at the end of the circuit the court the district what’s more is there are grand juries in a hurry to go home for the weekend and to pretend that they haven’t heard anything any testimony that they would like to forget any details sworn away to secrecy for all time and this is what I keep in mind when I listen to this song in another time another zone the day it came home and onto the stereo and away I go to the past I mean the future I will be present

justwrite 27 november

you would think around this point I’d start to wonder and to remember although there’s a pretty hazy phase in between now and then filled with vague doubts and introspection looking into the mirror at a collection of parts not quite accurately arranged and I’d say the same about a picture you can’t miss her in the corner there she’s the one with that tooth that’s just not right but she doesn’t notice it herself and the healthy thing to do would be to smile with tighter lips but she never remembers to eclipse faults with a grin because without the within there’s a spin not quite qualified a chicken steak not quite fried and the moral of the story and the horror of the gory is to make you gladder that you’re you and not in the middle of some movie that ends badly although it starts okay and there are some parts in the middle that are probably not terrible although it’s full of faulty jumps like someone forgot to splice it right and this night I am telling you I’m thinking of breaking through to the next reel I feel like comfort is far off but there are apples I could slice without anyone’s help and there are translations I can frustrate without any dictionary I am scarying the text and pretending that’s what next is a ringing opportunity but what it could be is something like silence and the reliance on chance is not a good dance to step into to take one of I’ll drink more punch and think it over this white dress has not yet bloomed

Friday, November 27, 2009

post 27 november

justwrite 26 november

here we climb up the rhymes again I am taking my time my friend but I am leaving you yours there are chores enough for the both of us to call our bluffs and take them out to dinner and to show them a good time there are stories we would like to have written about ourselves that we would prefer to avoid living there are titles and songs and albums along the soundtrack that counteract negatively with the wavy lines that once defined the straight and narrow path and you may laugh but you’ll have to admit that the bit about the toaster was a bit far-fetched and the turkey in the roaster is too fast a football to catch I am trotting along I am tired and the fire is slowly sighing or something like a sigh maybe more like a steam a smoke a poke in the coals right where it gets you that’s how they bit through the chains the rotweiller remains misunderstood but from where I’m standing it’s not far enough and the tough thing to explain is where the drain leads to and when you’re through with the call does it all fall apart or come together depending on the weather and the knot and caught up in a situation where there’s not enough information you will find yourself facing doubt and wondering what this second person is all about

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

post 25 november

walking toward more there is nothing in store that hasn’t been stocked no key that hasn’t been locked into place while the wasting hours passed and at last the end is reached but to seek and to find what you had in mind is to be disappointed or to laugh double-jointedly at the way you can free your suppositions from restraint the paint-by-numbers making us dumber or the colors making our fingers into summer when we are filled with mud and sunshine our grass grows and our toes know we are rhyming for no reason and by we I mean me and by you I mean me and this is a very self-congratulatory exercise collected and never neglected but the works of this art will not hang will not stand for this or hang it all around the mulberry bush in the park in the dark of a day of confusion with the light an illusion and the knowledge collected is directed at other goals like how to and wherefore and those kinds of scenes but the space in between is made up of gray and it’s sometimes nearly black when the acting turns to improv and there’s plenty of room for improvement in the movement between script and action the collapsing of confidence when the second speaker turns from the dialogue you practiced in the mirror and leans in nearer and asks you what you mean deep within and you swim with your mouth hanging open and your eyes closed hazy still with chlorine and heading toward the deep end pretending this is a new exercise on the next page and all you have to do is turn and the answers are already written and you’ll be smitten with their perfection once you find the right direction

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

post 24 november

would you know it was your author if he sat down beside you if she tried to confide in you that she knew everything about you and couldn’t help you still couldn’t fill your voids couldn’t help you to avoid pain what about that name and other considerations would you face with hesitation a conversation about your destination would you want to know or would you push away would you deny the possibility would you exercise free will are you still asking who this is are you worried are you thrilled what questions would you ask what task would you take him to what wringer would you put her through and what about when you were three and that didn’t have to be but now it was and then it is and the tenses get all mixed up if the future is already known but can you just stand up and walk away and what will he say and how will she stay away if you are the creation can you live without that pen can you go on without that song being sung to you along the way through lifting you up in the morning into a dawning without warning of some new something a humdrum no-fun or a thrill-a-minute cinemascope there is hope for Technicolor there is hope for no other escape but life but love and all the shoving has got to go but the flow is so easy to fall into like autumn but we’re meaning spring and stringing along like a guitar on the roof of a car and a tambourine seldom seen but between the seats but we will meet and we will decide and when you find the answer you like your bike will not take you fast enough to share the air but when the decision’s in collision with your dreams it seems impossible to reconcile all the while the time it goes the clock it goes and the rain it goes as well in the sense of reality not the abstract you see but the song in my head cannot be read by anyone else but me I thought we’ve got to figure this out as the doubts pile up and the cup overflows as well in mismatched paradigms

Monday, November 23, 2009

post 23 november

justwrite 23 november

when we dream our schemes are so much more reasonable no fees needing to be paid in full the cats and the kettles all called the right names on one to blame for allergies or the freezing of lots the pots and the tots all tatered out with pockets full of allusions in our confusion we are calling out to wake up and all of your verbs are useless your conjugation of frustration needs no interpretation we are smelling the smells from the nextdoor quarters and they are multiplying by four and again and the trend is to wear a mask but the task is to make it through and you can tell by the commercial breaks there’s some high stakes on this plate and the sauce not the boss but the cross purposes are clear from the fork and the steering wheel and the feeling of not being in a car being far removed from a license is a new one and the true fun comes from wondering where all the clues have gone and beckoning wrong lyrics from the next lips slipping popstar ringtones in and out of reality the tv we see behind our lenses playing pretense is the way to survive those alarmists and their theories we are nearing our destination but the tracks are stopping and I’m thinking of hopping off and up and into the trees to catch at the breeze and suggest a kite ride toward opportunity for I believe my immunity has recently been tested and those colds have all been bested the flu flew the coop and the scoop is that it’s all someone else’s idea in which case I am searching for health and originality and the echoes of news are of no use to me when I wake up

justwrite 22 november

sometimes when the bulk of the time has passed we feel the glass is fuller than empty but not quite plenty enough to go around the brown paper packages no longer tied up the string unhinged the fringe benefits can’t stand the humidity and melt with timidity no one wants to force the course to change we are running in the rain and the slipping is just another step whether forward or into the mud we cuddle close our hopes and keep them dry while we smile our dirty teeth into the mirror clearer my face to thee and we are not as fresh as our bets were hedged but our beds are made and our spades have dug up artifacts collapsing piles of brilliants and chameleons changing out of character and into comparison with those other types those overgrown tykes lolling around the merrygoround crew the true blue prints from which stereotypes are lifted gifted with the spinning but unforgiving as gravity the scarcity of resources forcing a second look at the same box whether the bow on top is tied or not you have what you get and that’s all you can take and the cake you bake is the one you tried to make but not quite as tasty with some of those hasty steps in between where the recipe seemed not to know and so you substituted your own ideas so the flat spots and the uncooked bits are all your own invention but you’re surprised at the retention of intentions in the outcome a little numbing as you’re coming to terms with these sums and you’re humming to yourself in a wealth of melody but a lack of words

justwrite 21 november

today as we know a holiday we play our own horns we toot our suits in high fashion we are clashing with contemporary society but what do they know and how do they go about with their bread unbuttered like no mother told them how to hold their heads their high horses course off to the north and the magnet can’t catch it all you’ve got to fall back sometimes but the summer won’t catch you you’ve got to lean in between the warmer seasons reasoning that the colder air is thinner and you’ll swim faster and if you’re following that logic that science of defiance I have got to tell you it might not be true but the youth of the nation facing frustration are willing to believe are willing to deceive their sidewalks into beaches reaching for flowers out of someone else’s hand ready to stand on land founded by their own feet their sweets ready for tongues hung out for silence in between good ideas that space too precious to waste I have got to tell you if you’re looking through instead of into you have got to slow it down you have got to crown your own moments and own each step can’t bet when the next sun will come up when the last supper will be served we deserve our own rewards the ones we make ourselves the health we take from our own temperatures we are shivering into warmth and celebration

Saturday, November 21, 2009

post 21 november

justwrite 20 november

oh hi let’s fly over that skyline let’s fry that landmine in a distant atmosphere no fear of the fallout no calling out for the leftovers the clover’s too lucky and the ducks are too plucky to carry on at that rate on the next plate they are escaping from peking there’s a diner no finer than fried rings of onion coming on hard down the next boulevard the theme music you’re used to suddenly changes and the faster frames are flying the tutorials are full and tired the wired phones are left in pockets the locks are clocked at a thousand miles an hour when kilometers overpower and the conversion we’re urging is easily ignored and the door turns out to be unhinged but we begin again we scan our hands and check our rings for size we surprise our circles into rounds and abounding in and out of results we are catapulting through the tumult the tomatoes stay full and red instead of ripening backward an absurd proposal if ever I’ve heard one although in fun my sister said or maybe she believed instead that the older we get the younger we are and that she is the oldest of us all by far or four and a half years which isn’t that near but surely not far and the steel guitar I used for a car has been sold since the war came and the warranty renamed the clunkers off of the streets into discreet garages and abstract farms safe from harm and interested in the rearview

Thursday, November 19, 2009

post 19 november

justwrite 19 november

I am putting myself into a program I am raising alarm at the rate of a storm we cannot settle out of the rain pains itself in the straining but those clouds can not fall straight down the wait is too heavy too heady to knit into a pocked knot a locked barrel sterile and clean and in between the cracks the boards ignoring their own mistakes and quaking in their iron bonds the bounds founded on another presumption that they have not the gumption to keep it together without a forever pact the tract signed off on the land grandstanding on a columned porch torching the homefires and burning the wires so there’s no connection in any direction I am collecting this training and draining out all the starch I can parch from a wet throat there’s a ghost of a chance I will dance alone and the zone is too timely two timed three rhymes and no waiting for the stating of a claim I am remaining in the kitchen until it’s time to eat I am facing the nation through an awkward explanation and the cards we’ve traded have faded like so many notes into the distance the fence I want to jump is the one that keeps me safe the dogs I want to raise are the ones that give me chase and each phrase is swallowed by the next with the naturalist taking notes and the politicians eating votes right out of each commercial break faking it and making it obvious in the process

justwrite 18 november

a day that disappeared into a chocolate too late to be saved too raving to be mad I am glad this will be justified later but the savior of the matter is a puddle and jump away and the play is no thing like this stage is the rage is the time to go alone and there is no haven on the horizon there is no stripe to follow all the way home no stone to roll no gathering of moss and the floss and the mill and the toss and the pill will all make sense whether our busy is too fizzy like a soda that oughta be water and what’s the matter when all the data points to a different projector what will the director be suggesting before yelling cut and will I have the back to hack into it will I be able to pull myself up if my boots have no straps and the collapsing is of more than lungs I have hung myself out to dry I am waiting for the sun but have undone the top buttons and am asking for nothing but space and stars

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

post 18 november

justwrite 17 november

I am finishing a book that someone else wrote before finishing my own my wet hair feels long on my shoulders and all of these things are true except this room seems darker than the next which is not a fact because if you subtract the light from this night and add it all together there’s still weather to be had if you’re interested and the pain in my tooth will not compute will not multiply any times or tables and the fables of self-interest are not cautionary enough there’s a tough fence to jump and a lump in my throat with a remote chance of self-improvement along that route so I will tell myself a different sort of tale I will begin with a different tomorrow and the sorrows carried along in pockets have got to go even though there are stories to be told easily sleazily to attract attention perhaps to collapse confidence and to divide potatoes by internet to collect the debt left in relief the fees we’ve paid waylaid yet again the scans too retinal and the cashier laughs at last I am waiting for the tension that has mounted to dismount and the sunset to come up on the back screen the inbetween sleep has got to be deep or my hair will not be dry and the fish already fried will not be eaten by better citizens the healthier wealthier wise with mispronounced surprise chapped into their lips I am tripping over the letters and I am sending them to myself for the post office is lost and the phone won’t start so I will take this piece of heart and I will build

justwrite 16 november

once there was a blank in the tank and when the car started up the feet weren’t enough to measure its treasure in travel the meters were neater and the story was longer several floors high and the surprise of the day is the way we’re caught up I was brought up in a certain way of thinking and I am blinking in the light but it’s just about time for dark and when we park our dreams together it’s a drive-in forever and the dubbing’s a little funny and sometimes there isn’t enough money for popcorn or some forlorn puppy goes bumbling by trying for sympathy but you’ve got me and I can tell you I will never sell you up the river you can have my paddle and the boat too there’s nothing the wind blew my way that I wouldn’t say is yours and the chores are done and the trash is out the dishes are clean and the clothes are too I have weeded the garden I am cooking the sunlight for dinner and when you are back here beside me I will serve such a feast I am pouring out pictures and sharpening the breadknives when we arrive we will depart in peace

Monday, November 16, 2009

post 16 november

justwrite 15 november

as we remember our roles we make our chickens into goals and hatch them one by egg by hook or by the book the crooks have their straight and narrow paths and we laugh our laughs but catch our deaths anyway the cold the folded dollar bills stuck into our pockets locked away within easy reach of any chill the filler all down falling around your knees so the sneezes won’t get you so the juice won’t bite we are out all night and in all day and in the way we say our goodbyes you can hear the hello of a welcome surprise along down the tracks we have visited the station already there are tickets to be bought and even if it rains that’s mainly on the plain in spain and vainly speaking that won’t be keeping me back I will let those bulls fight it out themselves but I will keep my health and my skin intact packing only enough bags to take in my hand carrying only enough command of the language to budget a few minimal conversations I am not uniting all of these nations but I would like to buy some bread I would like to buy some water on the hotter days and if I get a raise I will think also of cheese but for now these fees we’ve been charged are large enough to block up my calendar the view in the twelve-month frame claims only one year of time and it’s no crime to steal a second but the bases load themselves when we’re not looking and everyone’s going hungry if we’re not cooking so please to keep the pace and face the music with whole notes written with rests between the lines have spaces have sounds have found their tunes and when I see the moon I will ask which task it finds most amusing and which one seems to be most confusing although really it’s just doing and really aren’t we too

justwrite 14 november

when you think about symbols the clanging goes straight to your head the fed can’t reserve such notions about what deserves devotion is it dove turkey eagle or is it dopey Sherlock beagle when we make flags and signs and colors do our numbers add up do our dollars make sense and from whence have we come have we strung along our theories have our fears melted as we belt out our anthems our national stratagems and white white houses but the car won’t start and the apples come to peace with their pies in mind their pious offerings the sacrifices crusted over and the statue taking liberties from the French not to mention all those customs those officials we’ve been missing all those lessons we’ve offered and the dogs made hot we’ve got to keep our noses up and down to the grindstone round and through the corner store the nickel slots and the casinos bought and sold for a song by the popstar renegades digging with spades in the middle of the plains changing names with other countries and adopting as we go we will grow by consuming we will zoom in and out and shout with confidence for the eagle is the baldest and the turkey is the smartest but the dove is the peace-iest and when we see where the list stops we wonder when the job starts to get done when the race that we’ve run comes out with a winner when the starting gun fired and if we’ve expired our welcome or the other way around if our milk wears a frown when our moustaches catch together we are the red and white and blue and through a river we run it all with our wet boots and head colds

justwrite 13 november

now I will start the flow will go forward we are together onward and the words too absurd to be heard aloud crowd onto this stage the page turning itself forward and the motion to which we’re devoting so much energy pretends to be important in itself and not just the goal too hot to handle too cold to hold in idioms in metaphors in scores of lyrics you hear it in your head and you can’t say else instead just propelled through the eighties and the nineties find me substituting lines I find in my mind instead of fresh correct original language at times I’m behind the curve deserving to be rebuked but to stoop to conquer to divide to hide in lines too small to call a queue too presidential to seem residential although white the house and at night the mouse will still come will drum up the courage and pay off the urge with a venture into the booth to vote to promote his own agenda to eat and to find to seek and to rewind to a better time than ever found the golden crown cast by rose-colored glasses with tasks to be past like the blast of air the glaucoma unfair staring right into the light and my eyes water no surprise in the simple consideration the uniting of all these nations by which I mean sensations and the facing down is more than half the battle but the prattle goes on in the commercial background and I have found the bottom of chins distracting beyond measure when there’s a television in view and same to you

Friday, November 13, 2009

post 13 november

justwrite 12 november

more or less the fence I am climbing comes without directions except the general suggestion of up but we are wondering where the bottom goes as the height grows higher as it often does as the fire expires in the place meant for it and ignoring it does little to keep the warmth I am making up sounds instead of words and we are pretending to imagine that everything makes sense I am mentioning something of the kind I am behind in my catching up I am getting back into a groove that has all to do with records of time and place and musical space we spend together like our last dollars calling out foreign currencies and putting a hurry on the curry factor we are detracting from our suggestions we are making lessons not worth learning and the furnace keeps eating up the heat the rain puts out all doubts of drought and the suggestions we mention are washed away into the sea not the ocean for you see there’s a difference and the fish can’t tell because it’s a secret there’s a tax you have to pay if you want to play that game there’s a stain on the wall and I can’t tell you how it got there but it looks like a circus with three rings and no waiting there’s a statement and a rebuttal but our nothing is more than another answer just a dancer waiting for a song and the strongest stage will not hold the whole way through

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

post 11 november

justwrite 11 november

ready to aim I have fired a rocket made of juice at the youth of the toothsome nation we are stationed at the train and our main frame of reference has been hung on the opposite wall the vokzal goes on like the beat despite the quarantine you can buy a ticket for wherever you like if you can hear the words the absurd syllables delivered in alternating tongues from the same mouth we are heading south and to the right and on the map we’ve left enough time for lunch but my hunch is that this interview is used to brew a stronger tea a cup of coffee can not wash itself into black tea there are varieties I have not yet mined a quieter life I can not find for myself on this shelf with all the dishes rattling with all the kettles calling themselves on the handle holding a candle to their past hopes their remote glances changing the channels before the commercial break the hot water starting to heat itself with a concentrated stare where there are no holes in nylons where the car always starts where the cider beside her tastes sweeter than mine from this angle but I will bangle those bracelets chasing its natural conclusion I will close the door and what’s more I will be able to hear my own fingers feeling the letters on the keys and adding them up to meaning

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

post 10 november

justwrite 10 november

when is kapusta not kapusta this is when it’s cabbage not soup when it’s cooped up with other words waiting to be heard it is hurried off and turned into an adjective we are living big here we are dreaming of conjugation and coughing into declining health but the wealth is in the endings pretending we know the differences the cases with laughing faces peering down from the wall hardly peers to us all but lofty and scoffing I wish toffee was hauling itself toward us and stretching out its sticky length to comfort our teeth our tongues hung out to dry in the inside heat can’t compete with the misty haze of autumn days fading into winter no hints of just how cold and I can’t say that it’s getting old because there’s no comparison there’s no way I can see through to the other side of somewhere without a more complete map I am ready to adapt but the traps of each moment cling closer and I am hoping for a bazaar more normal than the next I am collecting data and photographs I am reading the signs and in English it says stop but there is no top there is no bottom just a crosswalk waiting to be solved and I have resolved to find the other end or at least to pretend to be headed in that direction to the station without information but ready to buy a ticket

Monday, November 9, 2009

post 9 november

justwrite 9 november

sometimes we see the lines drawn ourselves but from the shelves fall all those other ideas those sensemakers those noiseshakers and in the next room the soap opera that you don’t even follow starts to call you and you are thinking wait what and shut the book you meant to read heed the wrong advice and spice your coffee with curry and whether or not it turns out well the spell is broken and the token gesture that set this all into motion is lost in the ocean of details where every fish is a red herring every spare detail is carved into the sea the sand hands it right to you and you store it in a shell that crawls away when you look backward or forward and there are more words to warn you with but this is the way it will usually be and we rarely can see the trajectory for more than a perfunctory glance and we miss our chances by stuffing our faces and winning races we don’t need to run we can not sun ourselves long enough to tan our smiles into permanence we are waiting for the right commercial to tell us what to remember to tell us who to vote for what to love and how to live our lives but the commercials we see are not the right ones or if they are we don’t know and who is holding your remote who is controlling your scrolling through the information from where your fascination with language comes there’s a humming drone of some sort of mechanism turning the gears fearing the years that pass without accomplishment just measuring in the astronomical the fickle view of youth and old age and all the stages in between no one understands this point no one has ever lived and I will be the first to figure it out and on you go and you do your best and so do the rest and then what?

Sunday, November 8, 2009

post 8 november

justwrite 8 november

the bell is ringing and the machines are singing themselves to sleep the deep end is drowning in itself the wealth of information up in smoke poking the clouds with rounds of billowing the pillows we sleep on sweep up the leftovers the dream bits screaming wits’ end and pretend imaginings like the showers we are taking have taken will take mistakenly when it’s three in the morning and what we thought was dawning was really tosleep was really the keepaway game we named tomorrow there is no bus coming at this time there is no situation we can explain with the limited vocabulary we have acquired in these few years the weeks that feel like lives the knives that cut the chapters apart are dull and so are the brain cells that stretch them together firing and doing that synapse thing to sink or swim in someone else’s story I will write my own night I will take into consideration my own fascination with language with dropping off baggage that I don’t want to carry to marry my words to my thoughts and to have and to hold the colors from my tongue strung up like so many laundry flags fanning the afternoon when there is a breeze when the trees let in the sun when we have hung our messages and we do not need billboards we have stored the clues and we will use them as we see fit as the sizes flit back and forth from small to large and when we are not wearing our shoes they choose their own paths from the front door and what’s more they are not confined to our minds they travel freely they should be followed and not hollowed out with doubts to fit our own fat preferences or feet if it was up to me I would wonder who it should be up to and I would take charge but we would mainly be walking alone together and the weather would be fine a find no one would mind mined from gold

Saturday, November 7, 2009

post 7 november

justwrite 7 november

today’s the number game the same fame spread across like nutella when a fella has to say his part and the departing lines are too long to fine much less to find they are exchanging other peoples’ ideas and we are making our own this is a zone I am falling into I am calling back with room to spare but there’s a thirty minute limit and with me and you in it there’s no time for listening to the space there’s a race to chase the ending but we’re pretending it doesn’t matter there’s a shattering outside my glass but it passes and the classes are all teaching themselves at home with a roaming fee charged in the enlarged sense of a lack of progress we are messing up the eggs no one knows how to buy in a plastic bag dragging cracks on the floor we are performing our own dramas and our mamas want to know when the snow will reach our knees when the breeze will be too unbelievable to allow for leaving to cost forty griven because everything must go at these supersale prices and the nicest thing is the replacement of pop with the stopper of classic rock I am talking about listening and you are doing so and the flow goes on the beat is strong with this force of course we are the good guys of course we will never be as cynical as them we will never become ourselves in other view there are three rooms and no waiting and I am dating this entry to remember part of forever and to know it doesn’t last that way know the celery will make it through and nuts to all the crunching

justwrite 6 november

you might imagine I am capable of cooking up more than imaginary scenarios the scari-os in your bowl in the morning churning up the milk the freshcaught bilked from the ocean there are motions here without fear the steering clear leads to veering nearer we are wearier than our feet but our hearts go on beat by beat and the neat thing is the straight line the fine twine binds it all together the feathers and the bygones the singalongs and the campfires and this is an offer that never expires I am asking you I am staying true and I am listening with glistening eyes there is no surprise I will not hold in my pocket I will lock each piece with a golden key the ticket licked into place pasted like a space full of stars they are old and they are far and they are cold and what’s more is the story has more than fourteen the quarantine is unsettled by nettles in the side of politics the quick and the spread of the cards the hardened water which makes it ice the paradise of the right answer and encouragement sent swiftly I am posting no pictures with these wishes I am filling my water bottle again and the trend is toward ringing phones the zones are out of whack off track from the train station leaving a destination the imagination on a windy street meeting in a red bridge too big to budge too fudged for such a budget can’t be moved can be improved with a closer view or a truth more often spoken no tokens for this ride no way to hide the smile that styles into place when and how and thanks

justwrite 5 november

set up the steps we have left our feet on the ground floor and we are going up we cup our hands full of multivitamin juice and we boost our immunities with impunity we do not care how much it costs we do not fear the weary road for it will never find us we imagine it far behind us and we go and we go and we show no signs of slowing as the snowing takes over we have fields of clover in our brains and the stains of grass on our knees but our sleeves are tied behind and there’s no one to mind the chickens while the cats are out to play on the dock of the bay paying to play with the clock and to stay on a rock not quite Gibraltar but this one won’t falter there is questioning but there are lessons and the value-added dimensions are the ones we cannot buy these are the ones we need to try on for size and surmise whether we will survive in the same shape or if it’s escape instead while headed in the opposite way the stay is long but the road is longer and the feelings stronger than sense or regret and not yet but soon and when some other moon appears the years will melt away and anyway there are people not so lucky there are songs with no audiences and this is not the case I am riding the bus I am causing no fuss with my face wide open I am not covering up I am certainly drinking tea and water and your matters are mine and I own nothing worth forgiving but the living isn’t easy although the food is here to stay whatever that may lead you to believe

Thursday, November 5, 2009

post 5 november

justwrite 4 november

forever remember we will tremble in our stockings when the knocking comes to our door and wherefore and whyhow and whatnot have all got to go for the flow just cannot if the scot-free litany of sins escaped is draped across our collective eyes it’s no surprise that we fry our stockings in the windows we blow our noses and suggest roses ought to result but the tumult of a thousand tired hares jumping from the pony tails fails to move me to groove the usual suspects out of reach we are teaching ourselves unnecessary lessons the dimensions of these fake students are often in keeping with the deep end of our own pretendings and here they raise their hands and there they have commands of the language unlike our own bandaged tongues they are coming undone in the worst way the words stay out of bounds resounding in the corners warning all comers of the quarantine the mean streets meeting in the muddle of doubts the middle of scouts’ own promises in the quiet woods I imagine should help but they are far away from this scene and the television’s mouth doesn’t connect just redirects from the waves saving time from other uses and kicking it in the caboose as we loose our minutes and spill them all over the stover and the ovenl the baking of mistaken letters added in like a spice too nice to waste a taste of irrationality like sprinkles the rainbow kind the opaque sugar ready for a cupcake and prepared to make its day

justwrite 3 november

elsewhere there are elections here there are corrections in my directions forward I am going backward and to the right I have left the night and am on into the day straying into light the bright the correct neck of the woods good enough for generous understanding with little commanding of the language into the right angles the ninety degrees we need to make a turn for the better to the opposite side of near to far from and a sesame street demonstration shows you context clues to use where the monsters are near and the monsters are far and here where the wearing of masks is a task taken on or a suggestion scorned by experts we are wondering and wandering into the cold air wearing down jackets and heels with the walking talking a good game and making some mean claims where the numbers sort out purporting to doubt but doubting the strength of denial while the trial drags on with evidence not in evidence for all and the calls being made by referees played out not in open court but behind columns with theme music and the truth is on in the next room the soap opera gloom lifting and falling with the daily strands I am ready to buy in to the story line a little hard to find but attractive nonetheless more reasons to move toward rather than the general the massive attempts to understand all to accomplish all to be better to wear sweaters that match although that wouldn’t catch your attention if you saw the list some spots missed but plenty more to go and so on

justwrite 2 november

we are remembering our manners and our minds and our loosely defined norms have warmed to the occasion we are warning our phrases to stay within bounds we are hounding the moon and the phases are soon enough to move toward close enough to lines to color within like finds under caves and in the waves saving other surprises for when the sun rises brighter than today for this is all we can manage right now thank you and our tank’s a lot fuller each new year and the old fears keep clear we are steering forward and to the right and across from the landmarks we could find in any dark except those have disappeared here the prepositions are all that remain and the frame is black magic marker on a flipchart page all the rage at this stage of development we have sent our post-its packing and all that’s left on the stack is the smackdab middle of a recently released novel there is no introduction but the middle is juicy playing fast and loose with the end we pretend our teeth are in easy reach and we smile the miles across the floss a tightwire conspiring with hilarity to stretch itself into better health we are masking our faces replacing each taste with mistaken identity the plays we’ve seen before were more or less fictional and this now is unpredictionable by which I mean made up by which I twist my angles trying out the view

Monday, November 2, 2009

post 2 november

justwrite 1 november

I remember yesterday like it was today the way we save the dates is too late to keep track of we tax our brains like spain’s own memory in a hurry to scurry through Europe we’ve heard it all before and what’s more is the store is closing early here we have some fears to be addressed but the next best solution is to remember resolutions like to go and forward and onward and backward nomoreward we are making pledges and they are lemony fresh like the tabletop as of some minutes ago a flow to go with a growth to show in piles of dust rusting their way south hand and mouth and feet discreet enough to head the other way the body parts display is enough to turn your stomach as you wonder why they’ve done it and again the scan comes back with negative results the overall tumult leads to quaking earth and flying dirt I have been sitting at this desk I have had tea repeatedly I would like to walk and talk but these are both out the doubts have been routed directly to the top to adopt immediately and speedily we go along singing our elementary songs playing along on the recorder straightening up disorder into chapters the adapters not quite aligned as finely as a tune might be spooned into the mouth of a baby but these words will save me the space aloud the crowd allowed ought to be proud but the shrouded terms take their turns in describing how surviving only fits the fittest and at the cost of some small remittance you too could be truly listed

Saturday, October 31, 2009

post 31 october

justwrite 31 october

tired of being fired by health we establish ourselves a board we have ignored the options but the co-option the adoption of states divided like fates spinning some sort of yarn and no harm for the weary the wicked with bleary eyes surprise themselves in the mirror growing nearer toward unintentional missile launches leaning forward on their haunches into the night we are biting like fish like worms hooking themselves their lesser selves and smarter odds evening it up and stuffing their bears and werewolves full into the fur with sandwiches and picnic surprises the size of these mushrooms leaves barely enough room for a sore throat but the lemonade has got itself made in a pleasant shade too sleepy too weepy and indulgent for chocolate and you know this means the queens are kinging themselves all around the board the red and black explored in exhaustive searching lurching toward bed again and the eyes close exposing the negatives flashing an xray from the past a future raising itself up and the symptoms missing the toofine point disjointed and anointed with holy stomachs too full to be foolish the discos are missing their customers and the worst of it all is the search that falls from words fails from grace to explain the places into first and second and the distant sound of third having heard no confirmation and the destination still unknown I will roll over again scanning the dial and trailing the judges without budging

justwrite 30 october

while I sit down to write the night into order the sorting of last trash takes itself out and the doubts I have accumulated during the day must decide if they stay or whether to go and how slowly to travel to deftly unravel the strands the commands of another lifetime with the lines leading to a border heading off the sorters the rafts the tracks around and around and the children tumbling down over the hedges as they jump stumped by confusion and proclaimed as illusions all across the landscape faking out the monsters and sending out for trout we are rainbows in our hurricane minds we feel fine and we act with traction slowing us down the ground around the edges is dry and the mud comes undone at the least touch so keep your fingers to yourself and make some health come true while you sleep deep into the afterthoughts having brought a picnic lunch and having packed all those melons into a crescent a moon blooming in the basket the tasks all mastered and the mustard all passed like a class full of mashers all banged up with no place to go and the show goes on as it stong-arms all harm out of the way and to stay is too hilarious for comparison so the songs we sing are messaging instantly and indiscreetly with neatly packed stages raging into order and sorting out the pumpkins from the patch catching all together in four arms and no waiting

Thursday, October 29, 2009

post 29 october

justwrite 29 october

we are taking our tests and the best of times rhyme with cabbage the ravaged smiles tiled by tired carpenters accidentally having switched jobs having robbed each kettle caller calling all hollers down in the dell the haystack fast asleep keeping pace with the phases of the moon the unique haste we replace with our lunches our hunches coming true again and again and standing without and withstanding in and the applesauce television goes down easy taking our vitamins we sink and swim and pretend our notes are not too remote to change the channel to handle the fennel as it freshly leaves as the greengrown grieves the passing of the summer the humming of the numbers upward and down into bare single digits with frigid fingers lingering on the spine aligned with memorized concerns earning resentment and lacking the sleep spent with worrying but this is only fictional this is scarcely sensible we are bowling over our own plans and scanning our tired hands across the checkout we’ve lucked out with ducks and we’ve fleeced the geese for all they’re worth rehearsing the church service and setting for tea the free and the brave and the land and the hands clapping the sound of one tree falling in the breeze with no lumberjack around to sigh no apples to make into pie and where have all the fruits done gone

justwrite 28 october

our explosions are eggs in the making baked in their own time and with extracts of rhymes we find our names in the supermarket no need to park it for the long term just a slow burn on the beach within reach of a watermelon swelling with refreshment the best recompense for a waiting heart the early start and late sleep with swimming deep in between we are earning our keepers’ keep our teachers street the lanes with frames with references we can’t quite make I am watching a movie in split screen the said and the understood and in between where the black line define edges in the comic book version I am learning not to carry those corners on my shoulders the mourners and their older siblings bringing bigger dimensions the retention not quite what I’d like but the concepts are finding their places tripping me by the laces not really tried but you couldn’t say I haven’t tried I’ve bought boots in cahoots with the local mystery of black leathery treasure I am safe from the cold I am growing older into the leafy sidewalks the gutters overflow with leaves and my orange sleeves intend no revolution loosening from the coat cuffs on the morning bus the screaming has no meaning it’s a child running wild with the dogs and the logs sleep like bumps with the mumps not that anybody has those not that anybody wears clothes that many days in a row after all which is a different place all together and the weather is like cabbage in a cloudy sort of way and the layers seem to stay in tune in this moon but it’s hard to uncover if that’s true in any other direction

justwrite 27 october

when I finish up I will cup my hands and expand what I spill and I will drink up some other supper the luckiest drips sipped between dry lips eclipsing the taste and wasting no space between teeth to reach deep for words I have heard it told to be absurd I have served up double lines the digits fine and wined like happily dined grapes escaping from the handholding line the lifegiving vine but also restraining while carefully retraining toward the sun and coming undone from juice loose into the air the wrinkling stares back toward the nearby queries where we are going next and what’s the best text to read in preparation no deviation from those norms no taking by storm in this war of normalcy the presidential idioms the trim clouds shrouding the louder edges we are hedging our best lawns and calling on all comers to sink ships in the kitchen sink for there are no two captains no shops the wiser each miserly step into cold cement means the less the more the born again strands of philosophy our watermelon pretendings and our apricot ears our smiles and our citrus we are growing from and into green and all the colors in between

Monday, October 26, 2009

post 26 october

justwrite 26 october

I am missing those clips eclipsed by a rare hair in the eye worth two in the nest the next best trochee or some other enclosure led on by exposure of a certain sort cavorting in the dark and parking all those pages at the arrival stage and wondering after the wandering where the magazine will flip open and who will buy what size I am trying to tell you all about this arrangement the estrangement of customs is unusual and I want to tell the woman at the store that what’s more or less right with here is not quite with me and we see not eye to eye but how high she surmises the bill is will and well and good and all but to call it like I see it is to believe it and I’m sorry but I can’t make that work right now and the cow over the moon is out of tune with the in-country barker the sobaka that just wantsta do those deeds and trim those trees I am trying but the frying is far too fired and the two ships on this captain are way too stuffed with proverbs to overcome the reverb I would like to apologize for the try and fail attitude which precludes these uncertain hurting shoulders but the colder the wait the longer the haste just like they always say on those rainy days and then it snows but so it goes and as long as my fingers are running along these keys and pecking as they please I have got nothing to hide and nowhere inside is there much comprehension just another layer of dimension and though I may have lost my watch there’s a tempest to be tossed and while I haven’t memorized the lines I have the feeling we’ll be fine with all the pieces in order as we work to restore the mortar between the bricks and affix the thick rubber shoes to the cement that is glue

Sunday, October 25, 2009

post 25 october

justwrite 25 october

it’s been a month since that hunch paid off in spades waylaid over oceans the lunched on with devotion a hard crust to chew but the rust comes through easily a smile whiling itself away whittling a pay-to-play scheme out of credit and on the left it’s a saintly pretense an unmentionable offense we are looking out for lurking we are jerking our own chains and the refrains echo loud and louder crowding out the sounds of rounds sung elliptically laying eggs and tripping over kegs we have staged rebellions before but the scores were never evened the stevens and the grivens or hrivnia if you prefer as we skirt the issue with numerous tissues we are waving but never goodbye we are arriving and often the sky spreads thin we swim together under the weather and into the sun having found the heat is not so hot as might have been thought from a distance our resistance is permanent but our flexible necks exercise for what’s next by looking ahead though connected to what’s what’s going on there and how what is where and there’s no fair way to measure such awkward treasure I am waiting for the refreshing to reestablish the connection

Saturday, October 24, 2009

post 24 october

justwrite 24 october

let’s say our names and take turns after each other and before the boredom sets in we can swim or sink and you think you’ll follow with a memorized blurb but to disturb the balance is unwise and the surprise will be only on your part because my heart knows and the saying goes and comes back and packs a sandwich for lunch a one-two punch with a ribbon on top clobbering the health with stealth and a side-part the victims without vitamins are adding up the letters and they C no B they free their radicals their dynamic angles trying to fry the pan without the oil suggesting term limits and firm cheeses sneezing at diseases and annexing the breezes that give the best results that sail the ships eclipsing the night with wild delight a black cherry ferry carting before the horse loses the course and gallops like a bunch of grapes on fire with desire to be eaten to sweeten the tongue of some unsung hero an emperor nero would have wanted to meet a street with a distant name claiming some other fame with the sense of a modified ending an adjective sending a thrill through the nouns or the other way around and pretending the cases are only just in

justwrite 23 october

while the time changes its name we are monthing in years our minutes fear no hourglasses the trash is taken out and the doubts amount to nothing we are not rushing through the wilderness with our ears on fire we see and we taste each phase fully the moon is in tune with the present and the pheasants fly into other state birds having heard the ruckus and having come among us to integrate to investigate to contemplate the sense of cheese and the reason for curd the herd of cows having heard of cows was fairly self-aware and staring in the face of an itchy toe there was no time like now and how and why were two more surprises worth disguising but there would be no compromising just rocket-stocked barrels the terrells and the owens blowing their way out of television the screening having been failed and the markets to no avail being propped up while the corn crops up and the mazes are a-bloom by the room in my mouth you can tell that I’ve shouted enough for today while the volume was quiet the try-it badge was passed with flying numbers and blazing colors the glory and the story telling itself reliving its health amassing its wealth under the covers waiting for the clovers to bloom waiting for the actors to assume their roles and pay their tolls while the bridge won’t cross itself and the priest can’t just live on health we have got to pipe the single-payer system and to hype the clear water in a cistern the sistine a chapel mapped out in a trap for apples and how’d you like that idi-o-matic

Thursday, October 22, 2009

post 22 october

justwrite 22 october

now we are moving on with our lives our chives are arriving in time without potatoes the state of the confusion united with illusions let me tell you if you up those stairs you’ll get stared down and crowns of clowns will surround your smile the style will not come in until the ship swims the chip potatoes its own scheme the themes for English b are read and instead of being written by Langston Hughes the news of the day will say different letters and sometimes numbers in time seldom told well folded on a Thursday a rehearsed stay at a posh date and the wait until it changes is arranged in advance by a dance of blocks ticking the tock and walking the rock they’ve got a new way to play that ball and to call all the kettles until they’re nettled is a black art that blows some wind for no good reason and the beans sneeze into their knees freezing at the least chance of summer bumming its way toward the beach out of reach of months and years and fears tearing up at the slightest vegetable the well full of water but the pump won’t start and the heart laughing with otters and a broken sense of smart all those tricks traded in for a new pair of shoes a parachute into out of and through

justwrite 21 october

we have fevers that shiver our timbers into limber logs lost into hogged houses the cabins grabbing up maple syrup and triumphing accidentally in the meanwhile while a clean smile distracts from the yakkety-yak you can’t talk back or then they’ll know and then you’ll show your missing socket clocked in with all the leftover eyes having it having a day to pay playfully the rued way splayed on the sidewalk cracking itself up paying its health back in spades with made in the shade deals unreal like cards hard to pick the right one but to send the sun packing is to track in mud without intentional disrespect the intellect is not respected just the collected works of a thousand jobs and lives arriving all together at the same line the corner picking up a newspaper and hiding into smiles and ribbons flailing about in a constantplaying video no reason to see through to the other side nothing to hide on this one no water as clear as the wideopen sea treed into rivers bigger at the mouth trickling south and about into the confusion of illusion but when I come back to the present the hands stretched to the grab bar go far to show how tentative the mold how tenacious the hold we have different faces but we hold on tight in the light of turns and burned memories when we see our own faces in each others shoes we imagine the use of a new polish the quality in question the mentions not gotten in order the citations of nations united and divided again in mla format

justwrite 20 october

let us start with the trash we cash in on pawning off our longgone suggestions in differentiated directions we make our own corrections as we go closing the gaps with cement lent from the dentists of a bygone era a carrier pigeon of the givens in this equation we are saving our innocent smiles and crocodile whiles for their bestkept purposes the secrets rehearsed in the worst of time rhymes chimed out of sync and into linked arms calm like a storm quarreling with stony faces and distant embraces waiting for our turn earning our timetable serving as we’re able and saving credits to feed in need of recognition an easier mission than the one on the menu but I find myself asking for more and glorying in a story I can’t yet tell while and well and on until there’s something better to say until the way is clearer and the means are nearer to hand to command easily a breezily brisk army of words herded neatly into place and laced into intentions too complicated to mention at this point but jointed for flexibility the tendency always to hurtle forward unwarned and the morning is always later than earlier when you thought readiness was appropriate the liters the meters the parking darkening each corner we would prefer different soups we suggest surprising groups of arrangements changing statements to the best rest between quarter notes remote hopes in the whole the surprise we surmise ought to survive any set of curtains with uncertain flowers stitched on into the daylight circumstances we are buying more chances the lottery has got to be the best kept lie advertised into fact

justwrite 19 october

wax up the laugh track and slide on into hilarity the disparity between sense and unmentionable trenches through which moats carry remote consecutive numbers out of hunger and into common sense the fence too high the mile too wide spying on the thighmaster and the trying faster dasher one hundred yards from spring but still on the filled side of summer the number one again the fan and the scandal too hot to handle with a kid’s gloves shoving the grownups out of the way and staying just close enough to scuff accidental boots the troops marching in and out of green turning red instead of outside and hiding all the wide open tropes the isolated hopes of a thousand islands spying on each other and hovering into proximity arguing some proclivity toward sensitivity led them to free and easy living like a better home or garden pardoned by itself and wishing better health to all its fellow magazines storing their stories in glossy glories for watchtower bluebirds to listen to at night