justwrite 30 april

it was dark maybe night but just a step away from the bright lights coming too fast down the around the curve the straights dire and crooked but mostly calm walled off from reasonable responses taking chances instead these are the days but they don't have to be and the freefall calls out deliciously with each viciously approaching alternative an opportunity to see things otherwise or not at all to wallow in the space chasing a tail that may have been cut off and scoffing at the alternatives again the options co-opting your chances and too fast cutting out doubting the sense of noise wishing not to annoy not to be annoyed by the wall whether it's pink or floyd or otherwise but to despise is to cry foul and i have no owls left to respond to in this view i am just going on i am missing the words to this song how many times have the stairs crawled up too fast have the casts been misplaced misplayed waylaid in the fading gloom the roman numerals eyeing up the arabic playing tricks with the equations i'd like to subtract but i'm not sure how much ought to x out those facts but i am lacking the eraser the spacer as a button does nothing for my hopes to rope in the most with the host of other reasons treason we all fall down

justwrite 29 april

let me tell you how and why and we can cry separate songs along with the birds who've heard the best of the worst of it the cursed bit of steam streaming out of ears budding with brimming with grim reminders of the remainders upon which we're defined divided again and it's a long division to examine the schism we're seeing here at this juncture and on the xray the puncture is clear to see though it's hard to believe that it ever really started at a finite point while disjointed suggestions point me in the direction of a different diagnosis the mostest broken nails ever wavering in the slavery of confusion i have no way out there is no doubt that this is not the right word and i've heard that poison can spread like ivy so that's buying me more time in sublime surprise between my eyes and your ties all rolled up and ending in surprise again which is just repetition which is an ongoing rendition of bridge over troubled waters and everyone's daughters ought to learn the words ought to channel absurd energy toward the synthesis of missing parts the dartboard scoring up the borderline personalities the division of missions where we each get a role to play a toll to pay and if we don't get no rolls then where will all the butter go and who must go on the show?

justwrite 28 april

i am about to write about writing while i sing a song about singing along to your own song tuning into zoos where they whoever they are try to keep your brain busy by spelling things wrong repeatedly until you defeatedly roll back over and realize you could sleep instead but being fed such lines lets you wonder who defines your times and your signs and when you sleep in philadelphia where will your fingers go cake walk gloworm the nerve of the lack of sense the fifth dimension with orange hair the kind you stare at even when it's on your own head but bruce willis kills us with his ability to break free from gravity and the depravity behind any situation the station with the frequency most desirable retirable the style full of meaning too thick for gleaning with a plastic comb the homework the circle we have to grade before we graduate in faded echoes the geckos and their insurance deploring the storage situation where the cooked books make ravioli and holey mole not the guac kind the good find at a department store brandname america red and white and bloomingdales in the spring the fling of a wallet onto the sidewalk talking about repetition i used to listen to the fishes whisper their wishes and then i was like and they were like so we didn't anymore

justwrite 27 april

there are flowers and there are hours and hours of glowering leaves making like trees and screaming green thoughts in bright ecstasy a cover version of religion marketed under original copyright delight and the gist of it is the bliss of it all the sense that mentioning reality keeps it real and safe in a pocket lockbox talking our heads off until they spill overfilled with nostalgia i am everyone i have wanted to be and me and me and we have overcome ourselves the elves of our former ideals have tweaked their peaked caps and lapsed into shoes too nimble to use for walking the stockings strained draining all of their names into essence the sense that our tenses are imperfect is a wideopen panorama glamourpuss mistake the wake and the sleep the creeping tentacles opening circles in the air flailing without bailing and answering all the calls in time to leave messages the stressages of avoiding complimentary massages assuaging the vocabulary out of the words and what i've heard is absurd to repeat is too tough to reheat with any semblance of edibility up to date with the wait and we've all had enough of talking and we're balking it's the least we can do the most we can chew with our mouths full

justwrite 26 april

speaking of answers i am fresh out and the doubt is off the table lying i am able to see the truth in my ceiling of honesty laying it out and i will pretend to be asleep i will keep my own counsel and the sounds of the forest are too far away to imagine camping in damp tarp remember when we were going to but then and so again and so forth this is who i am trying to be and trying not to see in the mirror clearer than fear should be my intention is to speak out of strength and to give away only what i need to but when i flip through the pages it's been ages since i could give good advice to anyone all i can do is brew tea leaves into teeth and crackle them into promises i can not keep i am too tired for this too old to kiss hello and miss the yellow wallpaper of stories and there is no cream what seems to be the trouble is the bubble that pops and i am not supporting distorting cavorting there are steps away and there are steps toward and to go forward we will have to meet will have to turn our feet into warrior poses i am looking down over the end of my arm my strong hand landing into the distance the reminiscence of a thought i wanted to have scuttles through my mind as i hear you stammer for a hammer looking for the final blow and settling it evenly like a score what's in store is no more of the same when you change the locks i will keep my old key

justwrite 25 april

and where did you spend the night which hand holds your heart too tight to let go the blood flow over and above a shove gently from behind pushing into the deep end but you can swim and limbs flail with relief the beat goes on and into the ground and i am going away i am staying out of this but my mouth is not i am caught between noise and joys and the light is too bright the candle is all i can handle but the wax too hot has got to be put away in a drawer the lines defining my place and yours and the story is the story goes and i am not there but where all the showers come down heavily the sense of irony is you will be and i will not take turns once again this is layers of meaning this is where you need to be leaning but i cannot push hard enough my heart isn't smart enough and to be silent in defiance of science is acceptable it's perplexable to imagine literature as sense but if i put my back into it i can be out of you by summer i can be away from your everything i will fall down and roll into the hill and not down it i will be taken by the grasses baked into a single layer of reason i have no such vices no niceties except for elsewhere i can not tell you the truth you already know and the wonder is the worry is you do not hear there everywhere but i am on my way and the night is closing wondering what will open

justwrite 24 april

not the typical story a glorious border hoarding all the space the disgrace on your face when you erase yourself i'm sorry you can't take the cake can't bake your brain until spain comes until the rain bums everyone out the shout without words an absurd amount of trout in bouts doubting all credit will be bashed into cash the lasting triumph to bump to grind the rewinding tragedy grabbing again at me the rhymes lining the cages and the inmates at all stages raging against the machine themed to exist to wish bliss on all the patients the patience of a thousand shoes welcome to the blues and i hope you can manage the rest of the rainbow yourself for your health will depend on it the trend will defend itself from shelf life the knife calling you out and wondering as you're wandering in and out of sense whether this side of the fence is really so green or if doubts in between are miscoloring your viewing screen

later carbon daters will look back create a track of today to replay and will say and will wait and wonder the waste the face of what nation to chase itself out but there are answers in these chances and when we rebuild we will fill our bellies with concrete and we will grow solid tall enough for viewing and long enough to make a channel that everyone will watch will catch in two hands and expand to grander designs reminding the lines to stay parallel all the way

justwrite 23 april

i'd rather not say not stay not play along at this point
i'm disjointing my fingers to linger in the quiet space
the trace of a line defines the waste that is mine
whining like lions without pride no mascots ringing
no rosies no riveting recounting i am tired of that
when we make cookies you can watch from the couch
this time another you upside down looks back
crying for no reason out of season this is treason
i am tired of rhymes but otherwise there is no
the propeller fell off the beanie lost the babies
maybe rabies delays these fees from being processed
the lost years it is too bright outside right now
i am ready to close other eyes and wake out not up
i would like to write words without definition
stop trying to read what isn't there i tell all
the boxes are bored cardboard and sullen
bright lights big nights elsewhere squarely decided
i am hiding again i am in finland it's clear
there is no one out to eat me anymore
no one was ever trying to catch this eye
there are whispers i will pass along elsewhere
i have never been this answer washed that dish
i have missed every episode i have fallen out
there was a wheel and i was on or in before
i have chosen to ignore my use of the first person
we are all all the first person
or second we are the best the best just not third
no one wants to catch this
i am turning away

justwrite 22 april

i remember the past because it's easier that way
the weight of the right and the wrong all left
there are tears but i don't want them
there are fears but they rhyme too closely
mostly i am interested in the future tense
the present too immense for measure
the hot air balloon swallowed whole
again again again
i am reading the answers to earlier questions
i am putting up a poster of the most realistic fake
there is fiction hitting all the right points
the pegs the legs the tutoring ships
sailing in eclipsing forms into warm waters
tide fodder as a green slush
mush and much more to discuss
everyone is everyone is out there
in here i am wondering who is in here
crackers and cheese and also crackers
the matter with the space is the time
the wonder with the words is the rhyme
i am yawning again into my flipflops
i have forgotten my machines
the sneakers disappearing when i turn my laces
i have undone the first person again
a strand of intellect collects in a gutter
sputtering into action which is watering the mud

justwrite 21 april delayo

a skipping stone saves nine times more than a rubric can store a haikubric that borders on ridiculous the meticulous arrangements of stage names and unframed pasta rewording the rewards to be all-inclusive much less use of those bones if you run a little faster if you court some hidden disaster with a chord and a sword without a name defaming the claim check and wondering what street's next on the map the collapsing lines between what defines a river and a forgiver like a one-way road growing out of confusion the downtown illusion tricky on those eyeballs and calling out for shopping malls to be seen as wicked as ticking off the scoffing the traffic cops hopping like rabbits full up on the habit and dang nab it if i haven't seen something like you before and what's true is more to the point that i haven't and it's a rare bit of time that i spend defending such a consideration pretending such imagination could create such a present hesitant to accept and afraid to neglect all those ribbons tied on and sung along to a few brave souls holding out hope along whiney twiney ropes rough on the hands and twisting out to strands while seeking dry land to expand onto to stretch out to with some packed-away resources and the matter of course is that no list can add it up no outline can break it down no mistaken crown will be rewarded the moat will not be thwarted the losing will not streak and the creeks will overflow will grow heavy with the waiting will date each calendar square with care will pack it off to summer camp and ramp up the memories in revamped itineraries

justwrite 20 april

chilly fingers and breaky temples
all the pillars falling
calling out suggestions mentioning disgrace
a race to chase more rhymes
the logic has little to do with it
no one's got soul in their shoelaces
the electronic tonic is never out of flavor
the style whiling away the stages
the rage is all the mean
wait until the themes fall out
doesn't appeal to me doesn't cater to disgrace
the mind in mind in yours and mine
lining all the webs with spiders
you have to think about
the flat world the theory the weary traveler
i have some ideas i want to tell you
my fingers are waiting for holding each other
perhaps
clasping the air out there warming it up
filling my pockets and locking them up
there is little to say when i have already said so much
when i slip under the trivia i will knock my knees
someone will answer and i will be like
blank space

justwrite 19 april

turning on the oven turned on the smoke detector and the fire alarm went off in the not-so-town downtown nearby calling all volunteers and it was not for me not for my fire which was not in fact even smoke just a subtle change of temperature calling only for me to stand on my chair and yank out the battery again bare to the changes having ripped off the lid during several prior fluctuation situations and having no interest in returning it to its plasticy white smugness no thank you

along the road a car seat for sale not for a child but for a mild beige passenger now missing from some car and some far-off driver or nearby hider looking out the window and waiting for someone to pull over or walk up and sit down see the for sale sign and say yes i'll take it i will make this work even though there is no sense no syntax no mechanical possibility of complete and utter sense that will bring these together i will say yes and please come out from behind that window where you're hiding it's glass after all and i can see you anyway

decisioning as a verb reverberates in every vision every collision of reality with me and my perceptions every depth is full of meaning overflowing saying yes to going or to staying and not praying no not quite but biting off more than necessary and trying to swallow every signal while flying away into a moving nest unable to rest or to rise skying the high aim the glossy pictures and the cards slipped into my dinner the fortune cookies the billboards the miscaught words of strangers the song at just this time on the radio the card on my mat left randomly by the yoga teacher she with secret knowledge just like everyone else everyone except me who all see they all have it in small pouches kept in their dimples smiling with delight and waiting not quite quietly enough to keep it hidden

justwrite 18 april

my head is heavy with sun
runners and their funners with awkward elbow ideas
i want to be like hey and as hey and similar simile attempts
wait until that kite goes up
another miracle of suspension of disbelief
of relief on the part of the father with the daughters
farther and farther a-field
yielding to the glare disappearing into air
nothing thin is invisible
one nation is easily divisible
there are lowest common denominators
there are pointless confused demonstrators
we say to ourselves we must be free
we tell each other our plans
we scan horizons with grocery line beeps
what is it how much does it cost what does it do
does it come in green
how recyclable are you just asking
tasking a list and breaking eggs
no one needs to grow up too fast
no one needs to last past the past
there is an uncertain future i'm sure
i wonder where we're wandering toward
when i come back when i keep track
lacking all the right accents i have no faith
a wraith pinned to a mintchocolate swatch
the mist is missed and doesn't fit in tupperware
share your words with the listeners there are many

justwrite 17 april

there's what is known and what is felt
held in unclasped pockets waiting
there are field guides and grocery lists
i am tired of telling about this
there is something i need to tell
someone somewhere who doesn't
there are answers we already know
let's pretend anyway
so then i was like and you were like
hey what about and then nothing nothing
i have no addresses to write to there are no
numbers to call out in the dark
i am alone we are alone you are alone
goodbye in other words unheard
there are no hellos big enough
too many years fears and the like
the grass is pressed under me
i am alive in the breath or i am trying
no one is lying in the concentration
sweat on feet and balance impossible
there are implausible equations afoot
i would not like to talk about it
i am a tree i am asleep i am sorry
listening to voices there are rivers
songs along the strong current
smooth rocks under my feet in my pockets

justwrite 16 april

let's talk about thinking
let's think without linking hands
stand over there so i can see the space
face the race and trace the tracks
rack up the balls and cue up
there's a suggestion in this
there are no decisions bigger than schisms in my backpocket
i have locked up your memories
thanks for giving
the living you've been doing is yes
i've got nothing to bet on in this race
lacing up shoes with borrowed blues
everything is too much for this
let us sigh deeply
there are others' worries in these creases
i cannot run the race yet
i have left my shoes under your bed
instead of in the trunk
tomorrow i will walk and walk
rarely will i run
i will sun my footsteps
there will be great leaps
trees and leaves and fingers in the air
count them all and see what you get

justwrite 15 april

breaking like a doughnut into swiss cheese pleased by the take but faking no cake no icing on the dicing that's what i always say and i always play right into the river falling all over myself and calling elves from off of the shelves and into the cupboards storing up the ammunition against a dying dawn a lawnmower and his apprentice the dentist i see is out of sorts and the courts are out of gavels unravelling the little bits and pieces the buts and the creases of well once i and then tomorrow we'll but there are none of those to be had and to be sad is to wonder why i'm not getting that chance to dance in the corner a stylized mourner plays a sullen guitar at my face and i will not be there for the music and if you choose it so it'll be so we'll see how that night goes how that show slows down for the town to quake about to rake a lout from his tunnel and funnel all that energy into the whistling underground the sound I have bent from my trenches lends fences good neighbors but the furs around my feet are fake moccasins sweet and ready for toast with cheese and the squeeze of energy drains out the trains and no one can choo fast enough

justwrite 14 april

curled edges bungle the hedges out of their rows and off into the corn born again repeatedly in defeatedly complicated situations the stations pre-set on the dial the tone roaming alone but seeking gnomes of some consequence drenched in the trenches and wrenching commitments like the bit parts played on stage snapping fingers in lingering rhythm the schism between the have-yachts and the not-gots and what i want to know is who will write the wrong songs if i'm gone and who will throng to what empty hour cowering in lonely homely spaces the wide-open chase to the finish the race to begin it again and the scam of seeming inaction gaining traction and trailers but if you want to fail here's the ticket let's lick it and stick it to your envelope address it to the press it's a real scene you're making a heart you're breaking up against the dancehall fenceposts the walls with the most give to receive the regrets the reprieves not offered the toffee not scoffed at the coffee not cupped and the trouble bubbling up when it's bread instead of oranges the tournament goes to the peaches the far reaches of seasonal misdirection but i am can not wait to wait longer for a stronger flavor a layer of confusion the bruising on my left hand commanding my attention but if i could avoid rhyming dimension i would you must believe you must retrieve the lunch from the sack and track back a sudden daughter a slick young otter from another river bigger than a picture soon to be a fixture in the baby news after a topsy-turvy cruise on a paperwork tsunami and i'd also avoid salami if i could which would be good but i can't and so i shan't

justwrite 13 april

let's go quickly please but hold your hand as you fan the flame the fire about to expire tires itself out fourwheelswise surprising the anecdotes out of sense and the sensibility is lost in the tossed salad arrangement a stage set for turnips and whatever turns up has got to be right has got to say goodnight and good luck stuck its head in the door but it closed too soon and the moon will have something to say about that the cat will have some hat to wear and all the pears will meet the cheese all the dogs will remember to sneeze and the bubbles that trouble your nose today will stay out of the way of tomorrow will pack sorrows into a row and sew carrots into your pockets in case you need them in case the customs men are packing stacks of racks and lacking legs of lamb and you can have my word for it it's absurd to store it anywhere else but here so when the coast is clear and the sand is clean then in between your city blocks we will stock our ammunition against pollution and our solutions against apparent rhymes timed in rosemary rhythms forgiving them their trespasses and staying on the right side of the double yellow line feeling fine on those tires previously mentioned in an earlier dimension but i know where you are and i like how you love

justwrite 12 april

driving down the road i am searching for easter eggs those perfect beautiful colors numberless and waiting in the shadows there are surprises and i am trying to surprise them flipping through scrapbooks and among socks there are clocks but they are irrelevant there is no limit on my time except the end and no one knows about that no way no how no time like the present i give myself i live myself fully fooling my pockets into thinking they are holding secrets i have forgotten like the milk that should have expired but still it is appearing kindly in cereal installments waiting until some other day when there is no coffee there is no size to my basket no task too large i am reaching out for the chocolate the pennies the jellybeans in glossy realism stuck between my teeth or almost there no rush no rush just get there first and would anyone else recognize what they are looking for is different what they are reaching into the forsythia for is for them to find i am winding my way through the daffodils and i am spilling expectations into the new green grass there are to-do lists but i am grasping at the sunshine and the jewelled pastels the pastures i will not pass by the ingredients being gathered and i am still looking and i am finding what was never lost just tossed gently elsewhere or on ahead waiting for the light to catch my eye and lead me on blindly

justwrite 11 april

underneath the trees there were wilting petals wondering whether the weather would be fine in the future and suturing together memories of a brief past lasting into the present and it's a hesitant bunch of conjectures brokering those smokestacks but when you relapse relax and doublecheck your toes before you wreck your nose hurtling headlong into the distance the resistance you struggle against is just a chance meeting there is no greeting lasting your whole life like a knife against your side encouraging your discouragement and the faint of a surprise is worth adding up and standing back down from a frown from the north to the south and a couch full of potatoes waiting up at night for the dawn's early like to flail to fail proudly with a flag and a bag of chocolate hopscotch jumping over three and two feet on seven all good carrots are home by eleven making cakes out of molehills and if i could just get some coffee we'd talk about sense but it's just a chance to dance around the subject and if i can stay out of it i will if i can take a different pill and wake up myself i will do so i will shiver into a cold choice by myself i will wonder if there is a choice i will rejoice in that which i have awkwardly phrased and i will save myself with language

justwrite 10 april

suddenly upside down the king wears a crown in his pocket so no one can steal his feelings and i have read the guide book i have mistooken mistakes for purpose and i am considering the directive as prime as distinct from a district in which i currently dwell which is just as well for i have seen the darkness and i have been affected somewhat misdirected into the minimal heating arrangement the braids meant for bread and the basket for recipes minimal in retention of memories the dimension of freezing cold into the toes the noses glowing with restraint i am making a judgment i am throwing off disregard with a careful toss glossing over the meaning of the dictionary says and the bread won't rise still won't rise and there's a chill in the error of those ways i am ready for a suggestion but the lesson can't teach itself they say they say jump right in and i sink swimmingly no one can tell drowning in suggestions in delight surprised goodnight and they all say goodbye they all wave into tomorrow but i have work to do yesterday still and the sun keeps hurrying along i have songs to have sung i have squeezed my lungs into a frenzy and the eggs keep laying and the dirt keeps growing up into the mirror the clearing still won't but the boat floats for now and the petals paddling by have high hopes in the applepie sky

justwrite 9 april

while you fall asleep i will keep the candle on i will turn out the dinner i will wait for you on the other side of the calendar there will be fresh salads strawberries they will wait for you but the quiet will be too silent and you will sing loudly loyally the stars will laugh and graph the course of course i have forgotten i have gotten lost in the brush the underworld pages caging me in and pinning tin to my thumbs making pianos out of drums humming without music into tunes without room for expansion there will be squash acorn and quashed like tea that leaves its own reward its score card punched bunched up in a thursday night pocket i would like to lock it but instead i sneeze out six times aligning my concerts with your audiences there are differences between us there are kleenex and there are crumbs strung along like prayer flags lagging behind the directions as we turn into the sun over and over again undone by a sense of direction the too-soon corrections whiteout on connections i would like to apologize to summarize my misgivings my wronglivings and wonder after your forgivings for i am not quite right despite best efforts that frankly could be a little better and should be yet

justwrite 8 april delayo

looking to create some wilderness there's a barrier between carriers two tons or more and the storage space intended to erase disgrace from the steeplechase i have a horse in this race followed by a dogcart and there are chickens and there are eggs but i have pegged enough legs to get by for now and how can time be backward earning no points on anyone's license it's a spice meant to be served cold but hold on and fall back to keep track of the consequences the rinses and the repeats and the defeats are not worth handing over i will keep them in my drawer coring out the apples and stapling together the weatherbeaten mittens smitten with their own frosty smiles and those tie-together pompoms running along the open road and exploding birthdays into the present hesitant like a pheasant and apologetic like an apoplectic wordmaker

justwrite 7 april

bouncy kangaroo a group hug bugging me in my mind defining signs of the apocalypse tripping over tongues and songs that are sung in the dark after parks have been closed and nightmares disposed of this is the truth and the roof over a stranger's head is heavier than the quilts on my bed where the quilts are quagmires expiring like milk like questions i can't answer with my eyes open hoping for suggestions from alternate dimensions there are trees and there is treason blooming with no seasons the lessons learned in unearned taste the waste of yet another discovery shuffled under the carpet and is it dark enough yet to get the bleach out to travel south for the winter splintering daydreams onto split-screen imax calculating the facts and trapping the lapse in collapsing lint traps for this is where your words go when your garden won't grow and your frozen stream won't flow

just sleeping in a creeping tin of mints shaking down my cupboards waiting for a midnight raiding and i am fading in and out of sense a dimension beyond this minute to spin it backward an absurd proposal a holy roller pair of skates stating claims and defaming trains all along the smokestack train track i have packed my luggage i have not budged since the cows left home i am roaming alone seeking a forwarding address to stress the need for preparation the designation as "adult" against the tumult of disgust the trust of a rusted carrot despairing with the carrying on the carry-out trout routed along the cargo line feeling fine designed for everlasting plastic the graphic too novel the shovel above ground and pounding the earth beneath my dirt the strength beneath the hurt and the answers for tomorrow

justwrite 6 april

on average the disparaging rant the can't do attitude you people as we all know the flow growing like a garden the remainders rejoining repeatedly in a defeated sense winning again the instant static the traffic in the front yard regarding a high-risk dish of sets and the bets all off the table unstable catching up with peanut butter stuck in the roof a mouth two points south from a trout with no name framing regrets on the table tents the dents in my forehead keeping score storing up potatoes for ireland conspiring to break the yolk of folk music scrambling out the remains into rainbow strains of strange days indeed the weeds growing dense under my toes unmentionable worries hurrying across my dreams and themes easily surmisable hardly surprising defying the work load to pick toads from the lilacs and track elk and their ilk out of the forests and into the living room grooming the carpet for the second vacuuming the tunes will all be in line in step in locked boxes with hard-toasted muffins crumbly on the edges and thirsty for butter

justwrite 5 april

on the move toward movie the groovy the wavy lines transponding the diners he was wrong he was stronger than his intuition the missing dishing the wishing away some people have the willpower to be sensible some people have the potential for unmentionable trust it makes me feel hopeful a hunger full of responsible instincts so predictable the convictable felons spilling their melons out of time and rhymes like rhythms that dance in chance rotation changing the station for the rockstars the judges budging from their skin within the alien atmosphere the bushes clear in the fall hauling leaves into dirty hands the lands blooming with their hills and dales like chipmunks bunking in the woods could they have made kool-aid in the shade or must the choppers have topped off the poppermost the toast of the townhall meeting greeting all of europe with one dimple wrinkling up the napkins and scattering confetti like a spaghetti social making the most of a reproachfully unsuccessful rehearsal and i wanted to be the one to make the sense but my oven was broken and the bank a token gesture taken by storm so i had to warm the soil in the microwave and save the rays for sun for a later chance against the dark

justwrite 4 april

in the meantime
i am waiting for the case to be made
out of wine and whines alike
the blossoms are overflowing
my pineapple is half-grilled
the rings around the rosies
supposing they never grow up
the show-up assignments
the heightened expectations
the invitations waiting for articles
impeachment and pie
skies limiting the wonder
the blunders of suggestive rationales
i have revised the surprises
i can surmise no other stopping point
the tipping joint is the hip
slipping backwards toward the orange wall
calling a triangle a different angle
a stranglehold of explosions
inverted conversions the diversions from a point
wait i will restart the engine
forgiveness comes cheap at any price
a device like that will keep you coming back
into the middle
the fold golding over
the holdover combs and the roman noses
bigmouth and bass and basketball
stalling all out
shouting down the page
wide-ruled
college drools
let's get down to business

justwrite 3 april

now is the time of night when i bite off a chewful of wonder and sleep in until the cows suggest otherwise coming home all hours of the scoured potatoes debating full well and all and stalling into the elsewhere the parties hearty and otherwise echoing coldly on my wrists but the twist of the matter is the scattered tendency toward dependency and i am doing my best to arrest that sort of development in an envelope meant for two more stamps around the corner i am waiting for lawrence ferlinghetti to channel me in reverse on channel seven at four in the afternoon on monday when my words will be velvet and the revolving doors will close will dispose of the transitions between missing hours and the time we ought to spend on watering such lending trees the breeze blowing by without even a word to the contrary dairy intolerant of the itinerant sailors whaling wild words forward again the scan reveals plants and trances and there is something to be said for being elsewhere and in our foursquare garden i am growing beans and concern burning up the bridges i planted last year and before and storing fat against a winter that has yet to be determined i am worming my way into progress messing up all those questions and suggesting an alternate ending before i've read the original i'm just not ready to turn the page

justwrite 2 april

inspired tired of the meeting room board game the shame in no secrecy and when you ask twice i will tell you one more time no there's nothing going on with that schedule nothing to measure for measures of deceit just a defeat handed over and settled on my shoes with the truths unspoken a token gift and a lovely shoe but nothing true enough for forgiveness in the bigness of this moment i would like to thank sleep i would like to breathe deep and remember the before the after and celebrate the during when the time comes when the right bird hums with gums unchewable and a fruity drink bubbling up pinkly with quoted grapes and mistasted mistakes i want to tell you something but i haven't figured it out yet i want to say it's okay to walk away i want to wonder who would want to stay and i want to travel everywhere with myself with you and with a map that collapses into the palm of my qualms and is waiting when i am ready

justwrite 1 april

i am planning on scanning the horizon into this book jacket and it will keep me warm when the racket of storms and unnecessary suggestions seems unlikely to lesson i am messing up my eardrums by steering all inboxes to the outtrotted foxes the locks are off the barrel and the feral dogs are reminding logs that no one has to be lazy to jump over if you know what they mean and sight unseen we all do but when i call you will you be true and what if stars align differently at night will i have to pretend to dream what's right when the candles burn both ways when the execution stays off the table and the rambling monks unpack their trunks and stay a while smiling with secret mysteries redundant in their cloistered minds the kind with stained glass from which no pass elapses no traps collapse on the mountains and the snow caps peek through clouds loud and quiet and riots beyond measure for measure i have got to stop pretending that lending sense will gather any interest for the songs that i have heard in that genre have no contractions and therefore no actions can be developed from such a gently enveloped letter even if it's capitalized