Thursday, December 31, 2009

post 31 december

justwrite 31 december

when we add up our fireworks we will wonder what we’ve come to and the answer is not a number the answer is a struggle against the dark or some other such muddle I have trouble telling the day from the night sometimes but if you multiply the windows across from mine with the numbers of trees and the bulbs strung along the watchtower you will find it’s all calling birds and the turtledoves will not be shoved out of the way for some stupid golden ring-a-dings those have gone on long enough and there’s a listener to bluff and a pod to cast or a rod to throw before the pearls turn to swine we are fine and we are dandy you are sweet like sugar candy between my toes there was some sandy bit of summer and the beach reached far into my closet the closest place I have to hide the sand is wide and the cars swerve easily the mystery of who bought the most bread is hidden instead and easily led at the bottom of the basket those tasks not crossed off are buffeted and not buffeted which as I see now look the same and when I claim to know the words it’s just absurd as I’m sure you’ve heard by this point but we anoint ourselves as experts or sometimes others do and you can’t help but wish you were deserving and also wonder what the house beside’s serving like corn pudding in a stove that works or if those lurks those shadows have left their trail of breadcrumbs leading to the right door

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

post 30 december

justwrite 30 december

there are scores being kept there are more than four and on and on the milk goes out for a drink and never comes back takes a blink in the back corner and turns away all comers I have been counting those numbers and they don’t add up there are suppers those pups have not yet doggedly avoided there are kittens catty-corner from those dormer windows those gables unable to see anne from the isle the aisle for walking down the talk of some town and the baby of some neighbor all for cooking garlic all for keeping up with the jones family robinson the swiss pile of chocolate the banks the holding tanks full of thanksgiving and also of cranberries and while I am wary of the implications I find fascination in those united nations of cans those jars with their lips open wide and ready for summer I am pickled with delight I am frightened to joy of fruit the boiling sugar surprise eager for these eyes to eat whole and my soul will grow strong with rivers of songs but mainly of apricots and also of strawberries I am ferried across this frozen gray stream by a glimmering green dream a golden weaving of warmth I will stretch across the window to see how it catches the light and delight is yours for the sharing we are wearing our garlic smiles tonight but we are also imagining tangerine clouds down the hallway slipping out from under glowing doors full of the plunder of holiday

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

post 29 december

justwrite 29 december

moved into the corner there are dusty attempts to determine the direction there are corrections to be made the holiday parade is off from the normal schedule we can not help ourselves but braid our wealth into our hair we compare the strands with hands and all those laid to waste with body guards a-tinglin’ we are wingin’ those chickens and flickin’ the ashes into space with all those g’s and the trees grew up from mexico into Canada and that’s what happens when I listen to music at the same time the butterfly rose out of the curtains every time she smiles which took her everywhere and also backstage the phase will pass the raise will glass over and the drilling will be filling its own red light its district will be quick to thicken like cornstarch of the heart tired of the attention trying to add a dimension of a sense of a sort cavorting with the sort of vagabonds rarely strong-armed but still lookin’ like a saint down the hallway something funny in the air the stare backward to look for the title and if it’s found you’re deserving of a refund it can’t be fun to read over something of that sort but you couldn’t be surprised you could say so but I’d know otherwise without the jack of hearts not even blinking

Monday, December 28, 2009

post 28 december

justwrite 28 december

earth people I was going to tell you something but then you interrupted me you climbed that crazy tree and you made a face you escaped the grace of the clouds and you ate dinner right out loud in front of everyone and the sun and the moon swooned to imagine you grabbing those teeth from the dishwasher your drinking water has got to be brushed and if it’s too tough for you to chew then imagine you will ride the bus and I’ll walk let’s talk about this tomorrow let’s set a schedule and meet by the hour I will tower my ankles above those grassy plains as you explain why the grains ought to be whole and the wholly open targets are aiming for the bulls and we are full of macaroni we are only what we make ourselves to eat and the tea was sweet without the defeat of a second helping I am overheating the drive and the external journals will print news of this will blissfully unaware stare into the sofa and loaf around we have towns to paint different colors of red and of green and in between the holidays we will play our heartstrings singing carols and also marias and hail all these songs the long cold nights bite us in the comfort we are turning onward over all those soldiers marching in the silence the defiance of snow that refuses to be rain although I heard it again this morning on the window it couldn’t stay certain when I opened the curtain or more truthfully blinds the horizontal kind lined with dust and occasional wrinkles aren’t we all but sometimes we turn toward the brighter glass and look outward instead of in

Sunday, December 27, 2009

post 27 december

justwrite 27 december

when I see that I want to rhyme remember I want to chime tender leaves greener than the courtyard as it melts there is asphalt now and below the snow there is space for basketball not all pounding is on a rug not all shrugs are sweaters and the better off the roundabout the softer the pout turns to be the rice and the cheese and the mistaken pleas are wheezing their way forward a smokestack attacks the brighter colors and wipes the dirt away lets winter have its say and again and the fire doesn’t work but the crackers keep telling how it is and it’s big and the wig doesn’t fit and the stockings are brown but on the other side of town there are languages that make sense more than phonetically to me but it’s not a competition there’s something missing and it’s not space there’s more than a trace of that more than a stance to dance with shoes off onto the couch and slouching into nonverbal hurdles I am tripping over my flippers again and the sand is caught in my ears I am too awake to hear how many hours I have to sleep and is twelve too deep to measure how should I spend such leisure and where are those priorities deploring fleas and imagining trees with caps on all along the mulberry bushes the jellies and the jams on the freshpicked hams there are piglets in the freezer and monkeys in the cupboards and I think I’ll stick with soup

Saturday, December 26, 2009

post 26 december

justwrite 26 december

I am going to tell you something real and you will feel there’s a difference a glimmering whisper of sense although I usually mention much less reasonable items today I was cooking I was looking outside and I was gathering ingredients there was a half a sky of sun and the slants over the buildings used the views to dry varied laundry and assorted rugs and the dustier ones were given massages of a forceful sort beaten full of sunlight as the dirt flew away there were loud sounds resounding across the courtyard and you’d think hardly reasonable and wouldn’t someone protest wouldn’t someone neglect the soup and turn to yell out the window hey you kids that’s enough or to call last night’s bluff those men in the rain singing out pain or hilarity in occasional harmony after a few rounds of the block taking stock of what they have and finding each other there are numbers we can’t add up ourselves but today from my shelves I drew down a recipe that perplexed me into poetry there were vegetables and the troubles they found themselves in sought light and water and escape from the dark earth the roots of their lives they found surprise in the sink and drank deeply and in the pot not ten minutes later the beet danced alone stronger than the others and requiring more time to contemplate the heat to seek out safety and to offer a hand to the carrots to follow and their fellow potatoes and what I heard as I made my lists and counted fists full of wants and needs was exceeding joy dancing in a covered pot poetry that’s not meant to be read but to be felt instead bouncing off the insides the metal laughing back as the beet playfully attacked each edge of the stage no sage could build an easier demonstration no consternation of interpretation just fascination with this beet meeting itself in the dark and dancing in the boiling heat of an antiquated stovetop

justwrite 25 december

when we take these steps we remember what’s next has little to do with what’s past we have the rest of our lives to surprise ourselves our lesser elves our greater gift-givers we shiver our way to warmth we resort to resorts we retort to unkind inkind donations our frustrations are easily seen in between our ears we fear to open our mouths too wide lest the moths run and hide inside escaping from the park into the dark and waiting for the morning the dawning the yawning impossibility of lonely sleep when in the deep the velvet cake is a sweet escape I’m ready to make a trip of that sort I’m ready to retort with torte and also with language the spin within a thousand rounds of rebounding vision I am summarizing revision but in the meantime you may think I’m making all this up this elaborate ruse to confuse the illusions to confess a profusion of blotters all the ink fit to think spins these needles and pins those wheedling tongues down to a dollar less a pound or maybe it’s more like a meter a neater fit to be tied and if you hide your mittens from those bad kittens then they’ll just have to best your rukavetz your gloves your supposedly multilingual triangles of stitching letting out the stuffing from a tough-enough day no warning for such a morning no lock for such a stock on sale to no avail but once I have a calendar we’ll see who’s blurring the lines between the best and worst of times

Thursday, December 24, 2009

post 24 december

justwrite 24 december

there’s a pile of water over there and it’s fair or unaware or staring backward tomorrow I will take a different bus I will make a fuss out of my hat and there will be cats a-plenty we went our separate ways those salad days and also heaps of suggestions I am teaching myself lessons I am catching on in different directions we are trying to keep our faces occupied while our knees carry out other plans I have a command of this post I am making the mist I am boasting like a roast apple with a lollipop in its mouth as I travel south under my pillow I am pretending that this call will come through that this all will be true and sensemaking in the morning we are dawning early we are hurrying up and slowing down at the same time of day the same way to ply those cards straight or hard to follow to wait for a bite on the calf or to laugh when your feet slip farther down into the sound of the waves saving themselves from a different health I have sent my elf packing tracking all that data that matters I have gathered a few books and a coffee cup and that’s about what I think I’ll need and if you’re agreed we’ll buy flour tomorrow and drown our sorrows in air fresheners by which I mean groceries the most we see and the best we can do the root vegetables true and far between the scenes gleaming in their sequined suits in pursuit of sense I can not help but mention we are caught in different directions and the net can’t help but break

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

post 23 december

justwrite 23 december

as we remember we are waiting we are stating the claims we are naming names and the games we play are too far too hard to prosper I am offering all the digits we begin it again and the trend can not be traced I am erasing the space between I am saving the grace for the queen to say she plays her part she starts to tart up the piglets in a row and the cook simply says this has to go so the gardener hardens her hands and makes simple demands like seeds and plants her needs in the middle of the field seeking some sort of yield not always of the high variety but I can tell you are well prepared you are scared of the results but the tumult is to be expected you have not neglected your study in the country of history in the service of mystery I am inventing a black cat to follow down the hallway I am staying out of trouble I am mumbling the troubling bubbles and they pop in drops of rain in spains of plainjane daffodils I am spilling up and over and clover grows in rows although my nose does not suppose itself too healthy with the wealth of wind spinning and spending itself dry I am rewiring the cannonballs and I am hauling some of those dreams back to the drawing board because I have ignored those calls long enough and I am ready to bluff the tougher stuff straight through until morning

justwrite 22 december

when the ever comes up I will pick up this cup and I will sink into drinking there are berries and we are comparing the apples with the fruits of slow pursuit I am ready for a bite and the warm is a storm brewing behind cold elbows unexpected we have neglected for too long those strong winds in the background and now they drown only their own efforts we are laughing at their failure and flailing at our successes we are making messes out of molehills and so then where shall we live how can we give our answers can we take our chancers and dance with reindeer on the rooftops what is a holiday what is knowledge and what do different letters spell in the same language as well we wish we hope to dish out oatmeal and other such warmth I am waiting for the kettle I am turning into pepper and also salt I am yearning for some spice I can not name my tongue waits and all that comes is parsley all that hums is nicely frayed confusion I am set up with illusions of the spirited sort cavorting with lights and trees and the breeze again always mentioned my friend I have got to tell you there are no carrots like these there are no beets unable to sneeze in such a row they’ve got to go elsewhere they’ve got to wear hats or maybe just aprons I am shopping for napkins but only when I need them I am reaching for a suggestion box but maybe it overflows I am planning to sneeze but only when I least expect it

Monday, December 21, 2009

post 21 december

justwrite 192021 December

there are worse letters to write but this night I have not got the fingers to tell about it not sought the version to yell it though I am listening through the walls and the tell-alls are speaking a different variant they are comparing the salt and the tumult we are here-here and there-there and there is no way to compare pairs of pants and peppered romance with the curried hurry waiting up and down the aisles imagining the smile of a future child to have and to hold on a sled easily led through fantasy when the breeze blows chilly into the lemons into the rugs beaten in the courtyard into the trashpile irrespective of the bins the spin easily shaken off I would cough but you would worry I would wish that we could hurry up more slowly I have got to know we will make sense of this one I wish for fun and for answers I would like to know the chancers and the taken I am mistaken if I imagined tragedy would come only to a p.o. box I have gotten talked out of this one I haven’t got the mettle for the kettle to call it all black I will keep track of those painted flowers and wonder how they grow what they show in response how they flaunt their sidewalks who talks back when they all try to listen what vegetables glisten in the cheapest of pursuits I imagined I saw a river but perhaps it was in cahoots with the overlooking castle wrastling out the cobblestones from their icy zones and seeking to be caught in the right net I would bet I’ll eat in I would try to catch the spin and toss it back it would be easy to keep track if I had a scoreboard or a map right now the north collapses and the south spins again onto triple word score

justwrite 1718 dec

I can hardly begin to tell you how well your mouth matched up with those unheard of words it seemed you had the snow glowing in the globe all ready to shake up all happy to make up and grow over it to work through the ice and make nice I am thankful for these fingers I am taking my numbers I have a shabby set of digits but I am adding them up I have got to adopt the right bite my teeth and a leash do not go together I am remembering forever I am shivering and delivering a post full of cards a yard full of hardfought victories there are sleds instead of sense and what’s more is that the war can’t be won the store can’t be bought and you ought to just light those candles in the meanwhile we are hiding our riding boots we are in cahoots with sound we are rounding the next corner we are warming up disorder and shouting about like leaves in the trees that have all forgotten to sneeze at the same time and with this line of reasoning the seasoning might as well be a kilo of salt and a halt to healthy wealth we are keeping our instincts intact we are exacting a bit of revenge but it’s hard to tell to whom on what in which direction I have not yet gotten a map I have trapped my goals that used to be on hold I have roped them into a kaleidoscope and spun them right round setting records baby right roung

justwrite 16 december

it’s not safe to open those skins the mandarins are complicated the faded glory stores its own worst regrets the bets are off the scoffing has been done the rearranging wrung out to dry the trials the errors compare our staring we are caring and carrying out missions missing our marks and collecting our A’s we are making our ways forward and into the earth the worst the best of times I am lining the chalk with a board I am storing up rote memory I have a shivery liver and I am coughing with a turn to the left we have the best ideas we have no wires to conspire through over into and with you there are answers and into your free chancers the cellars the sellers the doors the adorable scores set out to dry in the sunshine we are arriving fine and late and dandy and waiting for our candy to be delivered we are bigger than our regrets we have left out those ideas those bigger problems are in the stockings their stalking feet outside the darkened windows the velvet curtains pulled uncertainly tight we are biting each others’ tongues and stopping up the words we wanted to have heard I am younger than I imagined but older than the tragedy you thought would eat you alive but you have survived and here we clearly are

justwrite 15 december

now that we are well aware the staring the caring is too unfair the share too worse the wear I am carrying out the side dishes wishing for fishes to call out the trout the doubts are unforeseen the queen has not been that hive does not thrive except for the leapt forward hours the towers two and three the reasons we can not recount the amount I have here is zero we fear our mirrors but we are waiting to excel we are powering the points the words absurd and published the triumph over the hump and the lump in some other throat is too remote to chance to leave the dance early the juice is too red and the days I spent instead of fed just hungry I am among these options I have adopted the right attitude and the rudest of times leads to the longest of climbs what are we waiting for who are we meeting more often than not than have gotten into the methods the west was won the

justwrite 14 december

the extent of this tent is to put itself up we are stuck the ducks are flying and we are hiding each siding the glass tasking itself we are in health we are stealthing elves up to the pole the north the whole world loves it when we send our presents we are dependent on our foes we show our appreciation through the designation of numbers our others our best kept secrets have leapt from each page we are the rage we are the machine we are in evidence already presented I have sent my best on ahead and I am waiting with the reserves having served tea and also doughnuts I don’t know what’s expected but I am besting the directions with the corrections I received in yesterday’s post I am hosting the web instead of sending behind the times the classified ads I have scads of time to read I will indeed feed the chickens and they will hatch and I will catch up I will snatch cups full of hops and pop on over audaciously the clover removing the glow worms from the storm the norms and the queries the weary and the traveler unraveling her hair and setting it up for the night out of sight and no mind at this time we will see and say and play as we may in the right key to unlock the next box

justwrite 13 december

I am coming this way again we are thinking about pretending to know we are showing up early and going home late there is no wait for the weary the travelers know only the road it’s ahead and behind the mind defines each time the rhymes can’t climb faster than each disaster past and on and passed along and we see the future sutured with the present but we are hesitant to take a bite since it might just hurt and we might have worked hard for nothing we might fight our own goals digging holes with our hands and jumping in with our feet in indiscreet decisions we live for revisions but we write for the right to reunite what we meant with the words we sent the actions we tented up and camped inside of hiding each bluff strong enough to lead to the water patient enough to let ourselves drink blinking eyes and lights with green highbrights from blue eyes and brown and the town doesn’t matter just the connection comes through and the true tones phone no one’s alone and no one’s grown too big to care too far to fare worse the wear and selling wares we brought from there is not much of a venture we are looking for new capital we are putting on fancy dresses to impress us in our own mirrors I am leaning nearer and checking for errors comparing the wearer now and then and wondering when each package will be delivered when the shivers will go away and the fever will have someone else’s day

Saturday, December 12, 2009

post 12 december

justwrite 12 december

we are sending our fenders out to be remembered I have fevered up those bones and I am looking for another set to catch that tea before it loses another leaf before it sets its motions into different oceans I am seeking a sense of taste I am wasting my calories on the breeze which I gulp down hounding the folks on the beach the reach upclose the most and the best and the guess is correct that you’ve made and the shade comes down but there’s no worry in this town it’s early and we’ve barely begun to come undone I have sung a different song with the words I heard while I was asleep I am keeping promises that matter I am hatting the batter and baking it up I could cup those pancakes in my hands I could handle some commands but I’d rather be asked I am up to the task I am dying my fair I am brushing my hair I am claiming a name and staking the same on a flag I would drag upwards without having read it closely soon or a moon away I am staying focused on the hocus and the pocus the hopes we have pinned are popping some balloons but others are appearing and what we might be fearing will be gone tomorrow or better or terrible but wearable with jeans and those scenes we’ve rehearsed to prepare for the worst will go without scripts anyway and we’ll stay ahead instead of whining behind because really come on and along and we will

justwrite 11 december

hold the phones that scandal’s much too shoeless that truth can not be spoken except for by the token naysayer because then no one will think twice that it’s a device developed by the author and offered up as fact an about face the chase not on the way not strong enough to be imagined I am thinking back to a particular walk and the other side of the sidewalk was darkened by confusion or maybe it was an illusion a ninety percent contusion the reflection not worth mentioning but I didn’t know what to say and another day the same way with wide water in between or maybe a stream but still the same dream the slow motion giving nothing and asking for more answering floor with ceiling and reeling in the film no clips those lips can’t rip off no cough too powerful to imagine full on a strong wind blows and the roses turn to snow we are showing up early and also late and there is no date for the weary the bleary eyes surprised when each peach turns out to be ripe or at least it was recently the best we’ve seen this season and no reason not to pick more except where to store turns out to be the question and you’d think I’d learned my lesson in the last session when I had to stick them in my pockets because I wanted them all right away and always to stay but they were too late to my mouth and I should have known I did know and I said so to myself but aloud I ate to health

Friday, December 11, 2009

post 11 december

justwrite 10 december

pass that trashcan there’s a scan going on and what’s going wrong is going out with the wrinkled up othersuch there is no need to keep all of that and scatter the hopes of organization to tatter the ropes you wanted to climb I am criming the time and spending dimes on broomsticks just forgetting the right twitch to clean it all up I am idealizing the right things to do the right way to say because those seem far away they can’t be said today but there is time there is later and when we fade our screens from these scenes we will jump those ropes over dumped hopes we had no need to eat such sweets we didn’t order those anyway we didn’t know just what to say and when we got those transcripts anyway they didn’t have the right names in the right places and there were big spaces where we thought we’d have results which all just catapults us backward where once there was progress now there’s just less there’s nothing to confess but confusion and the hope that illusions will fade and in their place sense will grow and the reasons though they are fine now will fall into line in time and issue forth and fifth like licked lips ready for what we’ll see we’ll free our tongues in the meantime though

justwrite 9 december

when the speech gets written I will be smitten with the results no matter the tumult no matter I’d rather deliver other language the baggage I am carrying is too heavy to drop it’s a bumper crop today and it’s sway outta hand there are no command keys to enter no sale items to return I am earning little interest in the eyes of the prize I am thinking about goals I am wondering how foals keep moving forward you can see their legs and you’ve got them pegged for falling but onward they go and the snow falls and they dance anyway am I ready to say that’s enough or thank you and still the speech isn’t written I have got to practice it anyway still the words are falling but the snow is too deep to tell still the irony is hot and I’ve got miles to go before I get to kyiv and my sleeves are full of hearts and other parts I can’t translate we are waiting for some other sense to arrive though it might be expensive you musn’t be defensive which here means me which here seems to be the way to go and I grow greener into a variety of colors the painting by numbers has never been enough it’s a tough row to hoe but so let’s do it anyway I am full up on mandarins and salad spins my breakfast bowl holding on to rubber soles and scuffing up the pavement

justwrite 8 december

it’s hard to say which way to feel makes more sense the recompense already paid the state of the union already dissolved solving some problems and creating others there are such a lot of got-to’s I have hopped through and not over the hoops in dispute where the values come through and what is it that makes you and I and we and how high can we go low with other prepositions missing in translation it was not easy to be done and now and how and more to store up and unlock suddenly waterfall cattlecall curtains fall again and again and no hands are clapped although I meant to and I sent you a telegram but that wasn’t in good taste I counted out the words but I meant it in haste and the paste wasn’t cut enough the song wasn’t chorused the rehearsals I meant to say is that what happened or when did that come together and how long forever never was the waiting and there’s no concentrating on any sort of timeline I’m fine and you’ve got yours all in a row and so I wonder and what blunders but no matter as scattering continues should I bring you a something a goodwishes greeting or what fleeting oldfashioned cash will be too expensive to bear can I care more than the shore where the ocean keeps eating up cups of stability and dumping them elsewhere there’s a boardwalk but I can’t talk about that right now my stomach turns at the thought and I’ve got to say something but I haven’t found the script and it’s not like you’re gripped with anticipation at the possibility it’s likely you have no concern and why should you what earns me the right to be frightened out of sense when I have built up my own fence so high and the sun shines daily but maybe there are right words but if there are I still have not heard

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

post 8 december

justwrite 7 december

I am ready to sleep deeper than an ocean of water not like those seas of flowers powering each celebration the fascination with chocolate is warranted but the warranty doesn’t mention anything about teeth the wreath of a wideopen smile has miles to go before it hangs on any such door we are touring up the countryside we are hiding out feet in quilts as the wilted vegetables develop their own irrigation in cartoony fascination I am dreaming of a white knight dawning into righthere he is there but while I build the castle he is finding a place to put it I am not quite sure about that as a tour of fat words thin of meaning but if you’re gleaning any greening then grow what you know so that’s how it goes in the western world and it’s no crime there’s time for every sort of cavorting and if you’re not sporting enough people will bluff your calls and fall your foils into well-oiled fencing did I mention I would like a cat did I tell you there’s no Saturday in the week did I sneeze three times or four and what’s more why can’t I figure it out myself what doubts I must have to be unable to grab at closeup info like that trail into the wildfire jungle so just go the other way if you need to stay busy you can count all the fragments and wonder at the mean and the average and the sum of all numbers the wonders at the water and over the sky so high that must be so trees can see each other and wave to their mothers and wear hats that’s what I said

Sunday, December 6, 2009

post 6 december

justwrite 6 december

we are remembering to remember the ways we forget so we can’t get caught up in that rot again I have bought a ticket and I have licked it with a stamp with damp hopes and the ropes I know are only enough to hang from I am trying to build a bridge I am trying not to talk over anyone else I am listening to my health and spelling all the bees their knees leave a lot to be desired I am waiting to be fired like a pizza oven and besides shoving the sauce out of the way I will say that there are answers to be found under the next slice so it’d be nice to find a serving deserving of attention I am not so pushy I am seldom seen as mushy but the cartoons mean no harm and please don’t be alarmed if the water falls that’s allowed and all and we call our collars and our kettles and we mettle in the affairs of square pegs and the round holes we hold to be self-evident if not slightly less relevant I am baiting my hook and cooking it over easy there are fish flying by but the line leads under water and the glassbottom boat floats but not as reliably on trial I have admired the view from upstairs and below but you know there’s nothing to that other side I’ve tried to warn myself but no one else believes the trees and the attention they give to the other dimensions because it’s clearly not a lookingglass and no one’s eating the apples so we know what that means and we can face that cream with our eyes closed and our teeth open wide not to mention our mouths and the southern exposure that creates with the fates all snipping at the floss and tossing the mill to its flowery fate

Saturday, December 5, 2009

post 5 december

justwrite 5 december

bowling over the ocean the devotion of the masses yearn to breathe free and believe me they have it coming have you seen the numbing answers to space dilemmas have you sucked down that humid air and when you care is it because you ought to is it because they’ve adopted you into the right cause is it an independent clause that gives you pause or is it a reasonable question is there a sense of misdirection while I am watering the garden do those sideways glances harden past the point of nurture who will pull it together when the weather goes cold who will hold hands with the commander in brief without laughing inappropriately when the scene changes and you haven’t rearranged your wardrobe how will you manage with minimal damage what second hand shop will you adopt and who will have been there before who will have scripted that short story in advance who will have danced on the needle of the hetman it’s a club if you must know the hair’s short but it will grow and all those rows of juice lead us to believe we grieved too soon our moons are too many for these weeks the roses that seek to find out are about to expire but the yellow fire is not texas is not Colorado is not any sort of state of being about to be told about to hold gold in the palm of summer which is the air of a number of things most of all the rings that link a very short train remain shiny and tie me to love

justwrite 4 december

when we find our answers we dance into trancers the fancier the scene the less likely it seems that you will relish the pickle that tickles someone else’s fancy I am dancing backward and singing all the words in absurd syllables we are twins we are peeking into the woods and what should we do about it how will we shout it into the wind can I spin a tale tall enough to bluff this listener when you shiver I am cold and I hold in the wind a fresh loaf of bread to feed your nose we suppose this will be harder than it is we imagine the rivers running through it and we prove it on without geometry we I you wonder pronouns in a blunder and when tested I’ll best what’s next and fly directly onward the starboard bough of the tree in the breeze dancing it up the branches of luck your own personal dj ready to play your own hits and misses the battleship this is I mean we’ve seen our questions projected into the abstract the future contracts and suddenly on a train in the rain although let’s make it sunny it’ll cost no money to up that prediction I’ve got quite a few convictions about making it all possible not to say that it’s plausible but maybe we’ll plant hayseeds and see how they grow the garden hardens into likelihood I am working on jerking forward smoothly without rudeness without the awkwardness that accompanies the real deal but you couldn’t steal a truer truth and forsooth and other words come to mind but I find there’s still a blank

Friday, December 4, 2009

post 4 december

justwrite 3 december

from the storm there is a shelter built of norms and outside the wide open road and the flow goes on I have got to show you what I mean along this stream there are seats and steps my heart leapt to your mouth your words I will carry I am staring into stars and the cars that drive have others inside I am on the sidewalk again a wide talk from friends and the invitations standing with not withstanding worth handing off suddenly like arms in a different language that has no word for toes I suppose that’s something that’s been lost it seems unlikely it doesn’t exist or we can just share the bones the structures fair enough all those metatarsals after the rehearsals we all know our lines but no one seems to find the time to deliver them we are without stamps we camp out and wait for the office to open the store to close off the scorn the corner mourner can’t keep up with all the troubles but the bubbles aren’t all bursting I am thirsting for specifics but the something is terrific as far as that goes and the clothes all fit someone else and the health is ready to be studied and the muddied waters are yearning to breathe clean but who am I to mean that I know how I go along merrily the staring goes on subterraneanly and bobby d means a lot to me getting that paid off and coughing back into the lesson

just 2 december no one remembers what happened there or where the letters went well spent I’m sure but what’s more is less than what’s left of that text and I’ll bet someone knows but where that money goes is out the window with no return address

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

post 2 december

justwrite 1 december

while I’m at it there’s a cat in the hat on the bag but the gist of this is the twisty tie that tried to be and to have to skip and to grab lines at random in tandem with the cracks in the sidewalk the backtalk that is a tired pair of calves up for laughs but putting up with sugar there’s a tear in the wear and were we well-prepared where it would show you would know more than just specifics I could spin a terrific tale and the whale of a time you would have trying to find the end or the mouth or the baleen heading south toward jonah or ahab or some sort of captain tracking all the points and adding them up until the prize comes due and I can tell you I am straight through with that game there is no fame worth shaming yourself for but through a different door there might be more exits the successes in translation through better than halting translation means revolving and solving each entrance in its turn I am ready for my closeup and I am wondering when I rose up and asked for this when I tasked each bliss with an objective and what the collective would have to say about the way I move about the groove without songs and the awkwardness along the way I have got to say I am not a native speaker I am holding up this beaker and I am drinking deeper of the unknown and in this zone the time might be fine but I’m sure it’s not mine to have and to hold and when I am old I will fare well but not better I will dress in only green sweaters and there will be no answer you will not believe when it comes out of my mind and into your ear you can hear the truth and you can look it in the face in case it’s looking back at you

justwrite 30 november

now we have reached the end and when we send our congratulations to destinations unknown we will phone our own homes and call back collect we will neglect our breadcrumbs and nibble our thumbs instead we will regret and we will rejoice and the cost will amount to so little that we will whittle sloops out of soap and sail away the yachts have got to be kidding with those sort of cognates but I can’t want until the unwrapping gets done I am feeling quite spun around and aced up like a bandage I can’t handle with my hands lest the commands get reversed and to print is the worst verb to know and so as I go about in one direction or multiple times and determine if foot or vehicle chimes in the best way I have got to stay focused I have hocused all the pocus and there’s still no poof the proof was in the pudding but I ate it instead of dinner I will grow no thinner on these potato pies I will high and ho and away go up and down some stairs I will compare thee to a summer squash a radish I will catch a falling water and I will turn it into language there are rocks that fall but all in all it’s leaves I’m looking for and this is the month although I have a hunch that I might receive a few in the distant future too where too is in addition to nothing like the rushing of water over a creek bed instead of well never mind that’s a good kind to have I meant more like a bike or a desert but it can’t hurt to just let you imagine something else there and it might not be fair but I’m a fan of creativity and the thrill I see in finding out your answers to my doubts is tantamount to a fine time and this is what I’m having we’re grabbing by the horns