justwrite 26 july

down the whole nine yards the touch the down the white rabbit making habits out of mole hills i am still waiting for the station to change i am imagining that we will rearrange our ideas and fix them into ideals i do not care where the tickets go or when the phone rings there are different things to be gotten rid of to speak ill of i am making a sandwich out of air out of down there in the dark the details parked sidebyside no hide to where wearing is a crime of the times i am sick of limes and their obtuse suggestions making drinks out of thinking thoughts bought by the dozen or by the ten instead fed by the metric system the easy division into breakfast and study and writing and buddy have i got a workout for you have i got a backward worn shoe it's true that there are angels disappearing and revealing and stealing a glance at chance told out of chronological order and there's no sorter that will place the round barn into the square hole no matter the goats or the coats worn by remote wheelbarrows in the chickenwhite rain the plain deal is to steal what you never could borrow and tomorrow i will read and i will listen to the lists and whisper back in counteractive measures of four-four time in awkward rhyme chiming along singsong one of the sins of poetry the flow we see here in our examination leading to frustration in not being given what we want even if we know not what it is