justwrite 25 february

sitting in the setting i am letting go of conflict of characters i have no style no theme i am letting go of my plot and i am point of view looking out and through and growing some new elements the sound of suggestion the lessons i won't have to teach to reach as far as i'd like and not pretend to lend sense to multidimensional models the throttle or the knot in the tree the gordian twists and the supple wrist wielding the sword swearing off the words the herds of cats scattering into the hills drinking their fills of the milk of human kindness or the blindness of leaving out doubt on a windowsill and hoping someone will pick it up and tuck it under a needy arm please forgive i have nothing ti give but the space where a pie should sit and the fumes zooming berrywild and smiling up from the tun mine and yours in messy fingers but i can still hear the fear that stole those days and i'd like to say that's done but i've run hard enough away to play this song and it's not long enough to strong along through another chase scene but i'd be happy to sing more slowly if that would work