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