post 15 october

justwrite 15 october

the clover fields another ball calling all the acorns into their hidey holes stolen out of summer and tucked to fall into winter no hint of mints or green freshness of any kind blind to the sun and unstrung by young digits adding up to a couple more scoring all the stores into a row holding her own their stones thrown away along the mulberry bush the push forward warning all the army against false moves clues collected and rejected in search of the professor messing up the billiard room the plums swooning over mustard and wrenching a monopoly of hearts from the departed company while we sweep up the cobblestones overgrown with prosperity there are too many broths in this soup too many elbows to regroup out of task and time and to find an answer is a strong romancer no respecter of circumstance the backward glance forward is a new word understood and when I heard her said she fed her fish with money I laughed at the honeytree and called for more while the store kept closing on my foot and the frustration of such a trench unmentioned until too late the date has called itself out has doubted to play as a thing to ring a rosie and suppose the growing is unsolicited with revision revisited while the bigness of the idea leads on the fruit slices up the pursuit of a greater answer the dancing chances out of time with the pace rhythm space like a diamond in the sky too high to reach for too useless to preach for while still we stretch we catch ourselves in the mirror and smile while the style has not yet gone out


justwrite 14 october

time passes by into lands of seven the weaving grieving its passage into the masses of one the armies of brightlight the darkness of notnight I am waiting for the heat to turn on gone again are the days of crazy haze the dirt roads exploding from the paved center the bent trenches with their dents unmentionable salads the ballads I can not sing into tune the moon crooning its own penitentiary the bars carved out of accidental pastings the water onto the wall the stall onto the shower every hour the water boils more rice tastes more nice than language can tell the well runs dry like a firefly unimaginable the tragic angle dangling items of interest the beginningest of the end signs and they’re all in another tongue traced in the paint the state of confusion the union of illusion with reality the tragedy of no one hearing the steeping keeping up with the churchtower all the wallflowers growing along the vines keeping time with the tea and the free concert with the hurt chorus keeps its glorious pace putting colds in their places on wideopen faces we’re all surprised by subtitles we have no money for honey but the garlic keeps coming we’re running out of fingers but the cold is only now not soon not then not when


justwrite 13 october

I am too far away from the keys the need to strike and be stuck amok running and engines humming forward I have heart the echo of the sound that abounds around around the sense jumping each fence to a broken lock and into the key the monster swimming around and correcting the lessons marking the notes mis-hit and rose-hipped out of bounds swinging this way and that cat has too many hats for this apartment he’d better take the penthouse a bent mouse none the wiser a sad surpriser with a happy ending pretending to imagine a tragedy but really just thinking of crumpets with tea the rolls holding their own and cloning imagined taste the face of a thousand smiles a sunflower aisle to walk down and talk town shop mop cleaning it all up scuffing the granola and seeking payola in the form of normalcy the hours have changed the rearranged leaves have left and what we’ve got in this spot is not a lot like applesauce but the boss leaves the roof down and clowns cruise their own town jumping out and bus stops and hopping onto popcorn ferries the cherries of the fleet meeting each hand with a shake and the same with milk and that sort of ilk quick enough to stir but slow enough to malt without halting let us drink sips and sing summer in the rain the cold the degrees breezing downward I can feel the taste nothing to waste no haste to be made just to smile in the shade