justwrite 9 march

i am looking at all these bookings and i am wondering who has done the overwhelming who will wash the old cantankerous shakers of salt walloping their eyeballs from stalled-out candybars and onto the stage raging against the frying of the right and the dying of the brighter shade of pale which is to say bleach which is to reach out and touch the unwashed hair sharing suggestions like unwashed lessons blessing you and your handmedowns the overgrown gowns crowning the gold standard like a hand you wish would reach out and not preach about other peaches that ought to be picked because these pockets are full and the lockets looking back in closeup faces chasing each other across the spaces clicked together like closegrown feathers and what i want to weather is a storm and what i want to wonder about is a brook trout with a tricky eye smiling to see the dream come true and laughing to see the stream in you when it ought to be the other way about with a stout step across an unsturdy stone groaning as the water rushes by always toward moscow and how does that furry hat make its way toward the reddened fields of spilled paint the taint of history and the blistery smile of the sun warms and runs away to play with the hopscotch alarm clock always on the seven