justwrite 31 january

i tried to submit but the bits and the pieces didn't line right up didn't dine out for breakfast and pretended through lunch with bunches of mismanaged differently arranged estranged imagery the situations measured with branches the rivers the banks and the blank spaces into which these waves ripple the tripping tongues that lick the stamps that send the damp messages on their way staying out of bounds and coloring inside the lines the briny space between salt and fresh the yes and the maybe the traitors to causes not yet known the undergrown fishes and the wishes we were meant to catch the scratch above my left eye the tattoo on my future thigh the wondering why the waiting the stating of intentions the mentioning of the rules and the cool disdain for sleep creeping into a leaping lizard pose the indisposed cuticles rumpling into their turns their burned-out hats scattered into the nevermind the sales wailing out for trout or tuna and when the tallies rally like troops the four little marks and the one brave sash we will all salute as we compute and we march merrily along

justwrite 30 january

the scan can't handle the badly damaged scam the crammed-in baggage trying for an end run around the penguin and the case as it may seem to seem is but a way without a mean and the scene the scandal beyond what we can handle is a triangle of a tragedy the imaginings leaning us up and into the sky and pressing into the earth the first and the best of times the west of rhymes criming up the brick walls the thick stalling out waiting to shout to juliet or better yet a juicy set of investments the stress meant for others is not for you and as you choose those next steps the best bets are to save and to steal and to feel for others deep in their lockboxes and the bagels and lox with the crocodile tears are waiting for everything everything and the relevance we have yet to discover the uncovered shove her off of the porch and torch the self-esteem she dreamed of giving away and now he passes it back to her and classes those tracks for her into letters and numbers and the mummer's the parade and the bum's absurd having heard each piece of the puzzle nuzzling into your shoulder holding all those tensions into awkward dimensions and the retention rate leaves some to be treed and the deed is feeding on the reading list twisting all the requirements into higher bent branches benefiting all the rest of the banks

justwrite 29 january

after a deep breath the lemon rests its scenty bubbles scrubbling lungs out of sorts and the cohorts in cahoots with puss in boots are all like what and i'm like yeah and so then i said keep your head and stay in bed instead to keep ahead of the game if your aim is to live through dying more slowly then you'd better rolly on over that polly wholly inconsequential the fifth dimensional transition between thoughts the movies and the UVs seeping into our sepia tones our rolling stones gathering cross-eyes and disguising our mothers' brothers as our aunts' husbands the way i see it the way you tee it there's no hole for that ball no fore for that four the tour of duty booting itself out of doubt the trout fishing in antarctica is a little tender this time of year and here we have some thoughts though we ought to be sparing the listeners instead of sharing the glisteners as we see them as we free them from our lips as they eclipse all sense of sense and don't mention it my self-mockery is no tick-tockery for you to keep time by so i'll climb by your window where you wait for sweet words and i am on my way to the roof the moon and i need more room in which to be beside you

justwrite 28 january

i am missing those pictures taken out of me out of trees and three or more standing by the good and the loved and above and below the storm clouds the loud shouts of doubts blowing by in the slow air barely contained rearranged like hair on a bare neck the shoulders carrying each step a long time a long line of answers leading up to the question but still and all a lesson no one teaches others no mothers or brothers could stop could drop the cloth could wait for the painting to dry before prying off the loose frame and rearranging the names the numbers the accounting for each drawer and more than i could have imagined and less than i could have hoped and i thought i knew the blue and the true would stay with me the old and the new but i was borrowing and the rain wants to freeze but it can't make up its mind to find just where and there is where we differ where i linger off in doubt in an alternate route certain or at least hesitantly able eager to be stable raving about roving shoving into a different direction to correct the lessons with green ink and when the answers are read aloud i am looking over shoulders to see where these pictures have gone to who is holding them and how are they seen in between fingers folded in cold

justwrite 27 january

i am waiting for the drying for the lying to line up and cry out crop up and into different directions the prepositions proposing where in relation to the chair each part should be each party should see its voting block take stock of the candles burning up the night and lighting out the take-in fried rice the nice tablecloth and the sloth with all its toey glory the story that i was telling you through the door has turned around again and is heading for the exit the fire escape the take on me and take me out for it's one two franz and you and who's to say the rain's to blame when it's the same forecast for tomorrow and the car over there has no snow to spare but the roads explode into black wetness the tetanus shot has not been gotten and so how can we survive to drive into the night and the morning full of warning again storming through our productive lists we cross off bits and take larger bites chewing up the morning with stretches and the wretched part is the list laughs last and casts a shadow backward wavering through caffeine dreams and uplate states of disrepair i have some plans and you think you can clean me up but you can not take me out this time and this dime is not to be used to call this time is a cannon ball and all the king's horses will look at it and think to quit and wonder well what are we supposed to do about that?

justwrite 26 january

last year the clear steering is widely recognized the despised reprisal is surprisingly blank the tank of where the banks once rested on the river the givers of calmness and the risk of balmy breezes blowing through the truth and where the people speak the bleak forecast of states and dates within a society the bland crayons coloring into brightness the right confusion of the left illusion and what i want to know is how glowing is that rose where will the snap be in the sugar peas and the trees bend with the flow where no one's given a chance to trance through the station and the way i see it the pizza's made of triangles the mangled wrangling of jeans and the themes we address on our envelopes with stamps and the camps that suggest we can't be trusted our rusted brains staining our fingers as we linger along the way the play's the thing and the ring of the stinger the ringer on the horseshoe curve right along the train track the opened-up eyes spying through the windows of your feet your soles your bowled-over hats and haircuts the guts the fringe hinging on your expectations and the raisins dry up into reasons worth seasoning with salt the occult and the gestalt the fried freud and the hoy-palloy wondering how and ahoy

justwrite 25 january

i'm looking forward to backward mapping my time there's no crime like the hesitant motion toward disappearance the clearance we've been voting for has not yet passed and if i'm correct in thinking i'm correct then we have yet to eat our cake too though if i saw you in that hat while i was wearing opposite glasses then i would look good and you could vote to boat the rockers off the island crying land ho and tallying flow charts and glow sticks along the brick walkway the talking stays to itself and handles its own calls in regard to the spaghetti i have no comment but on top of that all covered with cheese it should please the court to know that flow yoga is hot and not like that like flats of ranging colors like numbers between six and eight and the straight line theory between two points and anointing our own plans is a standard operation so if you cut here and steer clear of other promises the primroses will bloom and each noon will be at twelve on the dot the button up overcoat remote switching on and off and volume up and stuffing notes into the chimney to burn up through to santa saunas and llamas and missing dinner preferring dates the fate of such thighs and the highs of forgetting that mirrors are clearer than life

justwrite 24 january

buy one get one bright spot in your inbox the influx of reductions fussing through the list the missed appointments and the disjointed elbows releasing wrists and hands that get the gist of waving but not the why and not the how-high expectations for saving the nation's socks from getting lost under blocks shaped like inauguration the situation as i see it flees itself from ill-health care and the disappearing horizon the seasonal affections and any hesitation from this point on points backward and we can accuse the future of its own fulfillment a palsy on prophecy or possibly a paisley in light blue and silverywhite brighter than the dust in the road between shops misshapen traipsing through a marketplace erased at night by bolted closings supposing travellers from far ahead or at least away come to stay are eager to drink tea and you see that might not be far off from the perpendicular the vehicular traffic relegated to elsewhere the self where you thought you were found gets lost again and again and what is found is poetry or at least words and held in your mouth they taste like honey a mouthful one dollar one american green growing in wonder rolling along pressed into the roof of your mouth and oozing into teeth

justwrite 23 january

let's err on the side of wisemen the trials the questionable discretion the connections between lessons buying their way out of loopholes a stroll in a stroller the dollar amount drowning in the best interests of the masses the trashes doing the can-cans superthrive overdrive there are bakers and there are candlestick stakers in the fortunes of many the henny pennies and the pinnies in gym class crashing through dodgeball a rough call minus the cannonball and the civil war barn storming through the peach orchard the tortured grasses the other words that rhyme the glasses in the classes and the jazz fingers the stingers in the bees' knees and the trees they swung through having hung true laundry out to dry the high and wide deep and narrow sparrows swimming in the marrow of a thousand meteors on top of spaghetti all covered with alibis the trials and the tribulations the overindulgent diet vacations and when you look at all the evidence your socks don't match and your eyelids are on fire and if you ask me you ought to blink you ought to think through the kitchen and sink your shot on goal

justwrite 22 january

i am pausing in the closet hanging up the tomorrowfeet steps into the elsewhere starving all the hangers and strangers washing their nostrils with surprise and i was like and she was like oh and then he was like no way and i was like get out of this dealio and so they did

anyway there were habits jumping into dens again and again the friends of the sisters of misters and missus bliss us and our napkins clapping hands and crumbs and yum we say and hooray today there are no reruns just free suns to share and care in varied paces the races we win and the spin and the tin-rin-rin all along the whatever hmm

so then there was this time and another time but then we lost the dimes and the connection cut off so scoffing at the calendar we slipped out through the colander and strained our brains in the drain until all the fresh was left

right behind the paradigm shift the twisty tie cried out for closure and there it was

justwrite 21 january

hullo there i am speaking to you from the day and the end of the way forward which is not to say we are moving backward but the track you've set upon here is clearly not reconcilable with the trial full of motion the hocus pocus devotion to pleasing the seasons and smiling as they file in each to its own merry little ferryboat all across the moat and up the steps leaping as we've leapt into disregard hardening our shells and preferring instead to sleep earlier and the worrier in me says are you kidding you've got to be shot to see shockingly clear imagery pouring out of the cannon and into an alarming trajectory we please ourselves and we freeze our shelves in pursuit of cahoots always wanting to be in always dreaming of cold tin and aluminium cans the scans revealing brains and drains always like we once belonged to there we get back to we thought we were women were men were misunderstood a neighborhood of scholars and scavengers looking for the right citations the light everlasting trashing the recycling and bicycling back onto the stage left and right and good night and luck through all clovers to all comers and when will the hummers get the words right and when will the bright fade into knowledge the colleges of our feet so many steps ahead in a different direction an anthropological collective

justwrite 20 january

on this day we ask why just this day why only today and our hands and our hearts our faces turned up we ask and we answer yes and we can surprise ourselves and our poetry will be heard and our speeches will be spoken into honeyed ears the cheers of a great hope the nation stationed on the edge of its seat ready to meet the next step to trip forward forewarned of coming attractions and attracted to them beyond all reason yet we are cautioned and our voices are unprepared to say the right words just yet just bet the preachers and the teachers and the music from the strings binding together the weather and the haves and the have-not-gots all blooming zooming in and out of focus the token turns of keys and the opened doors already swinging wide hiding an obsolete view and pushing you and i and every other intogether and where were you and what were you building and when you laughed was it critical was it joy was it the muddled phrasing the faithfully the under god the lack of swearing until the music was over the clovers with all those leaves bright and green between snowy flakes of light sunning the clouds and the crowds all ready to see what's next

justwrite 19 january

back on track the flash of a clashing camera lens itself lending a lack of focus on the fords the hoards of tiny dancers chancing some alerted hurting blurting out the apologies for stopping suddenly in icy road conditions around the turns as we share the road in exploded moments the donuts we grow with girls with temerity the scarcity of cherry breeze washing out galoshes with chilly fingers the bringers of ominous omens unlike the slow guns of summer firing up hummers and discounted numbers for everything is cheaper in a leap year as we give them all a history made of mysteries growing steam from frozen dreams the endless themes with elements to support the court of public opinion in love with old dominion coffee depository the glory of beans and the inbetween eyesawake stake in reality the chance that our cars will go on without us the doubt in our hindsight delighting in the torture the store sure enough for sore stuff like throats and remote gloats like ha and ha and when i suggest you laugh it's a carafe of melancholy folly that spills out instead dying red the heads and hinds the hounds bounding over and beyond the hedgerows the tiny dancers always well in hand can't stand the landing gear that never unfolds to hold close the earth the worthwhile transfer to manhattan the static on the radio telling you there's no time to go like the present

justwrite 18 january

when i won at solitaire there was a tear in the there and out came a boring pouring of ideas the trees breezing in and out of doubt about where this phone belongs and who strong-arms the light brighter than a pocketwatch swatching all the brands and standing on hands glandular and strands that were working into the night the house of aluminum stairs baring out the wherewithal calling allaboard all ignored patience and the patients who don't have any the cranny without nooks and the books that can't quit plastic the drastic measures for measures treasured in our chests besting our own phrases where yesterdays is gone you know what i mean you say what i've seen on billboards ignoring the stories the glories the drawing boards and what i want to tell you is to quell your imagined potatoes your baking grenade oh the inequity the splattered streets of painted women and carl sandburg sandbag keeping it all in place the disgrace of the chase when frozen into the salaries of greeks the teeth in their ears and where have all the blank slates gone with the writing upon the inside and hiding all guesses with flouncy dresses and bang-up hair the fairy godother pretense the past fence the birds heard from the bees and the knees far between are ready with their stickers and their socks in stock for stalkers and the ladies in their walking streets ready for half-hearted rhymes on the beats

justwrite 17 january

i am sleeping in my sleep and i am dreaming of not waking up until a different future though it's unclear how i can know which is which and how often it will be confused with the past while lasting much longer and carrying water into a well up and down the wall calling out for sense and receiving paper money the kind we make up the stakes up and high enough for laughter the crafts drafting into roughspun perfection with revision the situation most encouraged the words turned into themselves comparing their staring neighbors with their partial saviors and thinking out loud about who can save the crowd and crowd the loud out of the room and into the trees quieted by breeze and fascinated by birds who've heard it all before and tuck them to rest in nests i have been wondering why the sky and how high the triangles that feed the pyramid why we need the doubling of super and hero together whether the weather is far or unfair and why care about the stairs to heaven or levin or other sources of information or inspiration the hesitation before and during and after choosing the illusion of making a choice and rejoicing in the sameness when we don't and gloating over all we've not undone from our packs just carrying around with no chance to relax shoulders from carrying the heavy burden and pointing it out to others so many stars shining in our eyes as we disguise our reasons and try others for treason

justwrite 16 january

maple cotton candy after yoga class gentle yoga hitherto unknown or ungrown in such colors the yellow wall the orange wall the balls of your feet in indiscreet mats chatting up the dark the fans scanning the muscles tousled into errant hairs scaring the balance off of its mark parking in the gravel and unraveling backs and backgrounds sticky in the stuckness the marks of caterpillars who make no noise the destroying being destroyed and the noise too annoying for knowing with glowing auto-mobiles spinning in their own air staring through the mat the floor the earth and down and up with no fists but twists into concentration on nothing on something else other than doubt letting out and spouting a rain into the elsewhere letting something grow letting self know self and no shelf too high no pie too sky for a taste with closed eyes and the surprising horizon which isn't but could be with practice which distracts us from alarm clocks and when i tell you i mean not what i mean i want to say that i did try and i will listen and where the sounds of shapes and sizes are quiet and the covers are warm i will wait for some better answer to give myself and carry in my pocket under my tongue and sweet it will be and the strands will slip my lips to touching each other perfectly fit no need to be tied

justwrite 15 january

when there's no more room left at the poles will those stalled-out souls vote for shipwreck or disappearance there's no reason to vote there's no remote clause floating about waiting to zap the short the circuit allabout the trout fishing in american streams are seeming too tired for this country these days these ways these means these committees and their unamericans their hysterical colleagues these are the times when people keep asking me people keep tasking up the list and chewing off lots of bites on hooks and crooked worms squirm in styrofoam hoping to catch a better image and when i do and if i do i can't free it there's no release and it flashes at my feet gathering dust turning to mud all the possibilities the fudgy sweetness of inaction there is no escape and the drapes close over the window and opening again the train i hear a buzzer that must be something done or coming in again a gone distance outside in the cold and the riders always with allusions the confusions of a woebegone lake the mistakes of an empty stomach and a halfhearted mouth draping lips in eclipsed formations saving nations with our luck and shucks if it ain't corn don't fix it though you know that just might be good for you and when i see you that's what i'll say and you'll play along but the song will have no answer and the chancer chaser double-spacer will be stuffed with excuses and i will ride the caboose until i change my mind

justwrite 14 january

i'm not sure how to put this but i can carry it around for a while styling the smiling wheel to while away the worries in a hurry a harried scurry toward crumbs the thumbs sticking out hoping for a hand hoping to land on solid feet the ground beneath discreet enough not to mention it self-consciously and what i'd like to know is mister and twister those popping blisters bubbles the trouble of backward days mislaid on a calendar a colander slipping through the glue not sticking the stamps not licking close enough the roasted roughcast blast oven the freak accidents tragic in their radioaction tuning into new words the absurd herds of them no one's ever heard of galloping on ahead into the red and out of the black then back into the black and easily read with illustrations the fascination of a grateful nation that's not sure what's for its own good and should we have voted for this at some point a disjointed elbow adds up to a scarecrow and whaddyaknow it works and the jerks downtown are screwing around again looking through their drivingby windows and laughing or possibly crying at the dying on the joggingby street i knew you when and again but she said so i knew and the end and once through the breach dear the ear turns to tune into a different shade and i turn out the light

justwrite 13 january

somehow there are not currently enough letters to complete all of the words we'll need to say the games we'll need to score points enough to play the composite index the weather these are all factors and the point in feeling overwhelmed means someone else is at the helm and that's not much help that's a flighty yelp crowding around a closed door and knocking in time with the cruising music the altitude too rude to level off the cough that could be cleaner the collar that could be greener and if you came out to play or to work or to jerk around the viewfinder the neverminder once there was a dream and it was too sleepy to wake up and the shakedown knocked out the power into the next week into a textspeak dialogue afterschool and underground hidden behind a tissue box and building paper out of blocks like bricks like the mud that could be king the ring that could be around a rosy riveting tale voting for being condoned not condemned the friend of an enemy has got to be kidding me with all of this sound this nonsense abounding beyond the realm of human decency the fleecy b-sides and the guitars starring in their own dramas their own llamas heading up the mission and stating the gains in distant strains of stranded parabolas wondering how they spilled out from math and into the path of no return after sixty days

justwrite 12 january

can you estimate the cost of a tossed cookie a stranded candy bandit up to his knees in sprees and smarties out his ears can you travel through the time travel time back to once where when was how and then wasn't now back when what was what was something real and the feel of the angels was strangely close and the miscellaneous popes of the last many years could steer clear of venison the dimensions measured out by artists and cartwheels with regret the notyet past blasted through its own doorframe the tame shrews and the wild mice plotting their rewards on graph paper and we shall all have our day each others' ways and who will catch the catchers and who will snatch the snatchers and doctor the doctors and how many ways can you stay on the right path when the left crashes into view repeatedly with your lazy eyes trying to reconsider trying to matter like science like important sorts of quarks measurable like mountains here i mean the ozarks and in the dark the dandelions are less like weeds and more like tattoos of the sun coming undone on your left toe and it is not real it does not grow but so to speak to peek is to seek refuge in confusion the illusion of space and time and the continuum of what used to be mine and now is mine to be used

justwrite 11 january

home with a domehead worth looking into a goose egg calling out for lines for defined symbols riddling all the answers across a custom dancer and a china cat a scattered category of miscellany a cheney in the bush is worth a loss of all relevance the delegates laying them straight and waiting three fates too late into the distance and i'm sorry for my brother's keeper's cold and all the possible syntax jacking up the car worrying up the far-off future the distant future for the reruns are no fun if you've never seen the first for the fits that together make a phase can raise all relevance and the ice that dices your skates plays straight into your hands scanning for barcodes and reloaded shotgun cameras click and shoot and loop the troop the acting group and the scouting party hearty like me and like pirates the dry gates of a wishing well and i do but you have got to me kidding be if you think those grades are going to raid themselves those shelves are doublestuffed and the made-of-rust nails are holding together just for the picture so if you can snatch a moment or two of calamine and glue you can scratch that itch forever

justwrite 10 january

the ideal design feels fine to the touch and much of what we've talked about gets swallowed out a few yards with greeting cards designed for finding rhyming times in defining moments the donuts stale and well on the way to a souffle a buffet a cabaret and other syllables that get us into a quiet corner a table by the stairs where and whyfore the glory of sweet lips rips through the covers the appetizers wireless and condensating the concentrating left to its own devices the spices of a thousand miles in distance the dilettantes suggesting misspellings welling up in your eyes tired of worrying wearily blearily conjugating the consideration into less tense versions the past and the future sutured together into a present with matching sleeves believing in a life after tomorrow which we'll call monday and we'll say that there will be other times one of which will be ten and when we are six we will pick up our cantaloupes and we will laugh heartily and make predictions that are like pencil in their pointy reckoning the crucible of useful information impossible to pass through and screw into lightbulb sockets rocking in chairs and adopting a comparative sense not worth mentioning not worth hypertensioning for very little is and a little more gives a sense of the word of the world of the squirrels hurrying into their borrowed burrows in all the five boroughs reading william s burroughs naked to the lunch and having a hunch made of acorns

justwrite 9 january

the stellar compeller a propeller of a story glorying in its up and down i can't explain it to you motion devoting all of that air to staring gift horses in the mouth of troy which is a joy i can tell you like to running through the river with flipflop cannonballs following you around each bend and to pretend that you're not being chased is a hasty conclusion the forgone confusion in the idea that we're all set in stone when there's truly a lot of rolling going on the holding on of hands expanding beyond absconded fences crossing borders hoarding all the space and tasting the float of hope as it drifts into eighttextsleft time the sublime crime that is overpayment a day spent with someone else's friend lending ears to hear a story later to be retold the heart of gold song being sung with the price going up and there's no need to go down this stay this tray of cookies looking better and steadier than a pancake shakes me in my disregard wondering hard if there's anything to it and how not to brew it as a second coming a repetition of the running the forward the back two words toward the bottom of the page and i'm sorry but i'm going to have to write on that so collapse your ego and show me how it ought to be we'll see if i can incentive the right word substituting a roll for a role and the decks on hand stand ready to catch or fall

justwrite 8 january

you should be happy that and then the wet hen lands on her feet she meets a troubled claw crawling down the street and the rhymes have no sense in them they cash out at the track lacking any sort of reason and for this they're tried and true and found guilty until proven otherwise disguised as a strategy we see our own answers dancing in the street records playing chance and folks meet their own makers while not exactly considering them in this way and in this way there is order and no one has to worry about law and no one has to stall out in the middle of a sentence humming bumblingly and wondering when the package is coming the little boy is drumming for his dinner and what he thinks he'll get must be a stick must be quick enough to lick a turtle on the shell and tell it where to find another for the search is on for words and herds of absurd recollection the deflection of misdirection correcting for errors and comparing the glaring mistakes with great fake lakes quaking in their dizzy pools the blue eyes crying reign all over the world deciding who has the power to glower most graciously to trace the tissue all over the paper and blow it in black and white with the snow globe all full up and ready for a touchdown a letdown ground up and forgotten like extra cinnamon that no one really asked for though it's ready for a task or more importantly a taste for why waste the flavor when the spice is there to savor and rhymes can be smashed off-course of course like this

justwrite 7 january

i'll have to cut it short because the cold is too dark for my fingers at this juncture this jointure ligature rigmarole guacamole hotplate but inside the tomatoes are sneezing happily in vitamin c delight biting their seeds with thicklipped pleasure measuring out the curtains for their certain next step the thoughts that will have leapt from their vines into findoutfirst lasting impressions caressing the directions toward home around and back to and from and how many can we have in this bag of tupperware comparisons i'd like to ping that pong all through the rainclouds the icy shrouds of daylight brighter than your average bean seen on a sweet scene that i'd like to rewind happily defined as a sense of completion without being finished because more would be nice too

justwrite 6 january

ice that cake with a shovel pretty as a church in a lake my sake and your sides splitting with all the hairs chairing the committee on unending stupendous encouragement what we meant to say was i love you and all the together the weather forgot short nails and cottontails hopping on down to polish the jolly holidays the merry craze of icy phases depending on the time and temp the buses meant to carry on ought to string along a few fools for a ride to hide inside and under the covers or make all the cookies in translated bliss twisting sweet words from lips smiling in style with pizza sauce and crossing all the eyes and doting on teas just a treasure to measure and all the stubby little colors crayon their way into tomorrow and whether or not i turn the page you keep on drawing with lines and cards and purple harold singing through a book that's its own reward its own chore of pages to turn and to earn their staffs their flags their halfmast pantyhose the glowing rose of milady's favorite sweatshirt the poppyseeds stuck between her teeth releasing a sense of humanity the transformers disguising the horizon as possible as passable to beyond and i'll abscond with those blinders and i won't be wearing them either

justwrite 5 january

watching the hours power up through the forecast holding a spoon to dip into a broken bulb and draw out a yolk with a white right hand calling all kettles and roger roger breaker broken stalker stocken and other words that are not real for so it goes and so on with the phonies and their homies frying all up those deadlines crispy in the bread and toasty on the roast instead of alternate circumstances dancing the trances fit to call the tune for the violin you play has sprung flowers has caused hours of damage to the pattern static in problematic pneumatic tubes sneezing through the stations passing infectious mailings through the slots bought and sold for with tender stomachs the troubles among us amounting to donuts with all their holey rolling pins knocked over by the ball at midnight breakdancing with shoes on glassy trashy feet meeting the pavement in cold chance no dance for those times those minutes spinning it to straw calling out for gold and holding each precious moment figurine in between confused thumbs and other such digits like three and me you've got to see before you close your eyes for i have got a deal to chew with you and i think you'll like where this is going

justwrite 4 january

when everyone comes for dinner i will make cookies but they can bring their fingers along for the ride and to have and to hold cocoa around the rink sinking into frozen food aisles marrying each pea and princess caressing the soap and hoping against coleslaw that the sense will ooze out at the end of each sentence but with no repentance there's no punctuation and the congregation prays and pays and no one stays to hear the moral of the story for the glory is in the telling and the yelling behind eyelids cries dry kids and also grownup goats boating through the trash to cash in on taste wasted in plastic bags on rocky crags grabbing for leftovers and shoving the rest into stew brewing up a headache and i thought you might get one so i took it instead putting to bed all thoughts caught up in the hooks i never shook down that tree this year and the dear headlights in my bright nights keeps me from sleep traps my escape fakes the season and now the reasons are clearer darker lazier leaving me bleaker hazier crazier but when the green is growing leaner then the schemes i've planted will lead enchanted paths to elsewhere caringly watered with sweetplanted feet we are ready i am ready let us begin again begin

justwrite 3 january

if i ran away i'm not sure where i would get to or how long i could stay before i ran back wondering where everyone everything went

the loudlady phone too much
architect for a better tomorrow basement for his trains drains the windowseat with graphacreage
the father says it's very nice is that a flower she says no it's mommy

the picnic basket lost in the current
i see waves of red and white
crashing into checkered flags
bagging the whole operation
rebuilding a different destination
when we tell ourselves stories
to believe in our fists grab tight
greedy fingers on rainbows
the music in key unlocking
this is not my chapter i must have
replaced misplaced can't face
i remember you were telling me
i was hoping forgetting improving
it hurts to repeat to reseat
a different table with the wrong cards
i can't find my name but
pointing the other way i'll listen
to the waiter who suggests
some other specials if i'll just step
right this way left and right
some corners slow comers
take a picture of yours and post it
while i detach my limbs
replace rephrase start again

justwrite 2 january

a suspicious twist of lemon swishes its lips its tail across the flips the prince of piping hot potato pots the bubbling-over surprises rising from the dead the mist the somewhere else carried about in storebought spots stained into the ribbon typing the writer holding the tighter reins for when they're let go the flow slows and i hold back i keep track of the details slipping out and shout loudly about the weather whether it's nice or not or even if the windows are closed the bare walls exposed in glowing relief the white panels scanning their mammals for hair and warmbloodedness the endless bliss of satisfaction resulting from a quiet extraction of sense or sensibility the hostility toward senseless ends the split the quitter's pace racing self against health and the headache that ensues when the glue's off the water bottle and the sanitation comes into question is teaching lessons to the teachers and just a stretch from the out-of-reachers too far to ask for to task more than a bargain to need more warmth than a cardigan can offer boffering the coffers with a ten-cent copper stamp ramping it up one more notch until the kettle's ready to nettle all the black cats and the scattered rats smile through their missing teeth

justwrite 1 january

floundering like a fish in the senate wondering how many representatives it takes to make your eyeballs stall out on one side of your head instead of leering around the crown and through the roof to tooth through the facts to salt through the hatch and catch a falling star in your locked pocket burning right on down to the cotton gotten cold it has and shoulders blab their secrets into the setting sun coming undone and what you do in loud i do in quiet with words smeared into the blanks the crank turned but the shapes long gone having fallen off their horses and ridden away into the white the antelope that can't elope and why should they who'd want to stew in that pot so to speak to keep the wolves from howling around the clock and locking up the pictures pouring out measure for measure of old incan treasure streamlined through the stanzas the glamorous push of metal on rental cars as long as you've got insurance let's show them how it blows by the windmill on a cloudy afternoon when all the peas are picked and all the stamps are licked but never enough to send a way to lend the hay to make the cow that drinks the milk from jack's house the mouse sat inside of and the rooster trimmed the hide of but wide-eyed try-its laugh in half-cynical primitive pencil piles smiling up the miles and turning the other page