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