justwrite 29 may delayo

enough of this time travel unravelling each page to the next stage there are ages and there are rages better kept in cages to fade in and out of birdsong singing along like a throng of starlings startling the heartstrings into music i will sing and be glad the agreements will be ironclad no sixth sense none the richer than the bits and pieces scattered around like categories too unexplainable highly detainable the strong songs of the longshoremen ready to call a day a day and to pay to play along to the song on the rutabaga jukebox i am laughing at the chicken pox emerging like an urgent need in need of feeding heeding no cry i am always a critic before the beginning starts and the parts i'd like to play often already on stage on shelf in better long-term health than i am denying each clipped tone a toenail away from a tome of collected works jerking along the line the bread instead of apples dappling the morning like a mare unaware that gray is the color of fading both in and out and the doubts that collect in the drain are strained by experience the delirium of strategy trying to explain itself there is no wealth but wisdom there are no decisive incisors but teeth and the wreath on the door implies more than they're willing to explain so abstain from asking the tasking list clasping wrists made of dominoes exposed like raw noise like annoyance delivered with a shiver of humidity a proclivity toward words and back attacking the space between and skimming the print the ink the darkness for which there is no measurement no return just earned escape in grape-sized bites the bits of steps toward what's left once we've leapt off the trail beyond the pale glow of flashlight tracing what's ahead with a racing mind instead of sense beating the train with no gain but getting elsewhere first