Sunday, January 31, 2010

justwrite 31 january

let’s just say it’s time to bite that bulletin and spit fire across wires to tie that ring around the knot you’ve got to be kidding we’re ridding free sense of extra vowels and leaving you and I high and dry enough to dive into the deep end to pretend our senses are alive and well we are living in a spell of well-water tottering over the edge a sledgehammer couldn’t build unbreak re-stake these claims and call again fall a stand of flowers or some other powers the persuasion is unrelenting the heaven not senting not venting enough edges to build hedges and haul rocks I have clocks made out of those closed eyes I have high hopes and a remote but no television I have a fission fusion contusion and from here we continue illusions of the understandable sort of a cavorting frolic the spring pollen calling itself out the doubts for my lady fair carrying on into a different film where there’s a will there’s a whim that’s outlasted its duty there are truths we hold in our hands and there are some we leave on the shelves for later we are not haters we are the destroyers of worlds but what did they intend to do to us and what fuss wasn’t made when the spades were all lined up and no one had any diamonds when they’d all been fined and fired from mind the mines closed the yours too the ewes who presupposed closed doors what was anyone fighting for what kind of war were you thinking of starting is it too dark in here are there clear reasons why we cannot make progress who is ready for the next step who wonders why we haven’t leapt we are not of that sort we are not cavorting with the other types we are making nice with the bakers and the dozens the masses are falling down laughing and we cannot help but do the same until our fame spreads across our own eyes and we are delighted with surmising our own surprising conclusions the truths still out there where we cannot find them until the x reminds them in the masking tape window

Saturday, January 30, 2010

justwrite 30 january

when I was taking out the past the trash came back inside fried up the pan and scandalized the candles they were burning in the middle and fending off the ends and the depending on has got to stop those crops won’t grow without an ounce or two of blue jean fever there are levers to pull and buttons to press and my best guess is that the language I’m lacking is attacking elsewhere from all those other angles dangling verbs and omnipresent nouns drowning their syntax in boston harbor drinking all the tea they see and filling up the tabernacles with choirs wiring money to the orphanages and keeping tigers in their cages the cubs and the shrubs cut down with herring no bearing to keep in mind no findhorn garden to research the growing seasons without reason I am committing a backward treason by which I mean I am too loyal to disown I am disordered but sorted carefully into piles it took a while to make and if you’ll take a look in this book this reading rainbow will take you anywhere but you don’t have to take my word for it or store it up like a couple of acres of butter and two pounds of flour minus a cup of salt the tumultuous recipes we are pleased to concoct are trying to adopt a wait-and-see care-free attitude but we’re used to predictions coming true we’re used to going to the circus and not the zoo and it’s true what they said and it’s wrong that we’re led to believe that trees grow on moneyleaves planted in scantily watered hands the pockets not deep enough to allow for roots the truths too dirty to support growth there is a chart I’d like to show you but I know you will come to a conclusion without wallowing long enough in illusions to appreciate the state of these remarkable points circled into which we find wagons our dragons are our own best friends our pretend sounds in the night are the least delightful and we cannot escape their escape from capture by normalcy by the easy breathing of daytime the morning arriving after all anyway despite its earlier impossibility and that tendency toward surprise allows the sun to rise again and again and I for one am not about to stop it

Friday, January 29, 2010

justwrite 29 january

stop allowing so much permission stop believing in superstition in the sense of the case where the space is a waste of time where the line cannot be drawn of its own accord where the boring orders are never filled where the pills aren’t taken but the vitamins mistaken for small dry fruits are downed in cahoots with a traveling salesman tonic nothing bubonic just a few twists of wrists and a ribbon on top I will never stop the wandering I cannot ponder a deep enough river to swim to the top there are lots of parkings and barks of dogs but the bumps on logs cannot be stopped those crops will not grow in the unfashionable soil please toil elsewhere we cannot help but carry our own weight he’s not my brother he’s some other sandwich-eater we are too discreet to make scenes but we will whisper action! and fade into the wings we cannot fly but when we try to explain why our lips flutter upward and we wonder what we’ve heard as beautifully told as imagination the fascination with glitter and forgetting we are betting our own fingers on that skin we are hoping to come in seventh place none the wiser the surprises we fizzled out like a doubt on the fourth of july too late to try to reschedule the menu and the corn kept cobbing all the space between my eyes there were thoughts we bought tickets to on schedule but when the plane left only one of us ate the peanuts when I mean this I want to say phases of phrasal verbs but I can not have heard of a more irrelevant set of schedules I am hoping for a comb or a frontporch gnome but I already have a brush and there’s no rush because there’s no porch and there’s not enough water for the plant if it comes down to that

Thursday, January 28, 2010

justwrite 28 january

don’t imagine tragedies larger than life there is too much strife to cut with this knife and besides it is my fingers and I need no troubles bigger than a papercut ready to heal with certain zeal and besides the wheel keeps turning the pile is burning brighter than a lit fire conspiring to wait until the righter moment and then burst into surprising color the flames lame in comparison to this explosion of uncontrolled passion clashing with the plaids and the gold lame the tray for serving undeserving patterns and here I don’t mean paisley I mean amazingly truthful expressions suddenly devoid of meaning I am cleaning out a closet that I never owned and the zoning ordinances are full of romances from the right angles and ninety degrees can hardly contain those corners the mourners marching to their own funerals in advance in uncomfortable pants when they could be doing yoga or eating worms or squirming in unmeasured pleasure in a treasure chest filled with time the crimes are books unread and trips too planned the scanner doesn’t work and besides you need your own eyes to tell you the story there are glorious crusts on these days the pies staying flavored while waiting in the trees turning easy breezes into suppositions about summer the numbers I am calling keep turning to sevens and all of my lines are heading in the same direction there are crayons picturing these connections and the flowers bloom again in strands that stretch that catch the corner of the dawn in your eyes and underground wires tickle in the no-longer dark

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

justwrite 27 january

when I tell you how well your eyes compliment the sky I mean to say that there are no days that don’t call out your name there are no ways too same to be close enough I will call all those hours into account and will add up the cups of honey drizzled over the sunshine finding dandelion wine on the doorstep I have leapt into the ocean and still I am warm there are storms but they are far overhead the rain falls but stalls out midstream stepping between the puddles the muddled colors swirling into the earth we are first and we are last in the world the curled up flowers are taking their time their patience is mine and I am baking something fresh for the next chance the dance across the pages we fade in and out of parallel structure and the conductor doesn’t have to tell me twice my stop is only to go and yours I know will be found and kept closely in a pocket unlocked and easily shared where we begin again where we never stopped starting all the time imparting departing repairing caring whether and when and how and soon and there are moons a-plenty there are sandwiches to be packed up and the stars linger longer than the campfire but they tire as well and rest a spell we call day and the way through is beautiful too and the destination and the fascination and the growing stowing only what is needed and feeding off of internal journaling outthere exploring and what’s more in time the stories we will have to tell will fill wells of endless resource and we will drink of course deeply and we will dine on all we find fine all yours and all mine

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

justwrite 26 january

when the weather is wetter and the wedding is threading two needles with three strings of ringaround rosies those supposed escapes will not be made those spades will not be played and if there’s a way to will those spillover choices we will rejoice in the noises the night the park the day the dark and the starting point is the joint of the first knuckle tucking in buckled shoes by twos and pilgrim hats by threes the breeze can’t be stopped and the sundae can’t be topped by that kind of a cherry the wary traveler unravels her gingerbread house into crumbs undone along the path where the goldfish dashed in crackery goodness we have a tendency to free our suppositions from the prepositions that ought to support them often we cavort when we ought to purport nobler causes independent clauses and let us make our points powerful for when we present there will be sentences we cannot hand out we cannot finish with periods in the middle and there will be beginnings without end I am an editor we are all creditors of our own mouths traveling south into the elsewhere we still care enough to call bluffs as we see them the chimneys the trees and the carribean the freeing properties of thrift shopping adopting pounds of goods in a shouldbe appreciated way playing house with a mouse and a carrot and comparing it to what couldbe what themes we find supportable what dreams we mean to make out of matchsticks all without starting a fire conspiring to tire just before completion in order to wake with something finishable once again worth in what hand two pushes through the other

Monday, January 25, 2010

justwrite 25 january

let me tell you how well you know what I only suppose there are chosen lines and I have defined them differently than they have me and we will see those played out we will have stayed out of view until the truth is known the coop has been flown and the birds are on their way which is to say I cannot tell you how it will seem to preen feathers I have not found to resound with abounding caution a redoubling of the auction costs we have lost track again we have scandalized the nation our fascination is unbelievable we are barely retrievable at this rate this late date mated to the next state of the union the address cannot be mailed to no hope can be availed to climbing up a rope and poping a new collision with religion a historical context a mixed blessing on both their houses we are traveling south as the crow flies we are surprising ourselves again we can’t handle the youth of that nation creating waves out of remorse and what’s more the quarts don’t add up the plants don’t grow like crows we have feet but we cannot fly we can’t earn a living by eating the sky and I will tell you again what I tried to say yesterday and that’s flattering to believe the least but the yeast will rise again a surprise befriending itself in a neighbor’s house and what will we serve what can we deserve with such plans how will our hands be filled and what still will be moving and shoulders to be using to lift up hands to scan such plans I am uncertain and my back is hurting but pressing into the register leaves a great deal to be desired I am firing up the stovetop wandering around the streetside block and clocking the directions toward an unsprung tongue trying to explain refrains as the drains are let loose and the noodles all come undone

Sunday, January 24, 2010

justwrite 24 january

I am ferrying February across the open fields the steel chains remain tied to the ocean floor and what’s more the periscope is down there is no view to be found for miles and the styles we once adopted have been co-opted by some beets wearing berets we have made our points and now we have to stand on them we will not sit with this in mind we will rewind our disturbances to what started it all we will call all those kettles back we will attack the outstanding reprimands and scan the horizon the division the schism we are imprisoned by our own objectives let me wander without wondering and I will plunder a much richer basket a much trickier task it will be to taste without waste to forgo want and to haunt a different aisle we are embracing the grains we are looking the same except for our faces we are erasing what chases us and it is not our feet our tails our telling whales what time it is let us sink and swim and not watch this film again I would like to scandalize those fries but they’re already French and the mode is not ice cream the theme is much too thoughtful for this boatful of special effects we are again neglecting crucial developments beyond the abilities of the plot to have caught up we interrupt this program for a checkup on reality we recommend this grown-again scandal for a handlebar moustache and a car that runs instead of drives we are thriving on the old the scolded soldier rides into a battle made up of cattle and he is the winner he eats for dinner those opponents we are all proponents of a sunnier day we like the way it sets it lets us do our work in peace and not in pieces and when the creases are ironed out we will remember our doubts and wonder where we left them we will feel crisp again and the coffee will already be cold and the story told too long ago will have come true in unrehearsed reverse

Saturday, January 23, 2010

post 23 january

justwrite 2223 january

imagine the scary tearing out of bread from the middle of the loaf I hope I can last past the part where the crust caves in I will sink and I will swim through this hurricane of jello the fellows tossing mashed potatoes will have to wait outside I cannot hide my disdain for those names that cannot be read aloud the shrouded in mystery histories the piling up of adjectival phrases the ways in and out of fireworks of doubt proud to turn your head out the window to winnow your way away from the stage two minnows waiting in the wings ready to bring the noise but all I can tell you is how well you will think of this in the future how easily you’ll make those jumps pump that ball full of air and shoot through hoops that aren’t even there we will fare well we will smell our triumph and now our dinners being given away I cannot play that game much longer I have stronger habits like sleep and the deepest of these is love I am shoving aside closed eyes to catch up and I am cupping my malt full of milk shaking up the tasty silt spilling no tears crying for no fears like these just please and thanks stored up in the tank and ready for their turn politely and the like

Friday, January 22, 2010

post 22 january

justwrite 21 january

I am eating the pie that turns out to be the sky and the crust rusts around the edges of my mouth the lips turned south for a closer listen glistening with the promise of berries and tea of the cooler kind you find dripping with sugar onto the kitchen linoleum I am leaning back into the rack onto the stack of letters I would like to write into one word the absurd belief that at some point all the joints will form one skeleton dancing like a chance made out of string pulled by bubblegum and hilarity I can not imagine a different ground beneath my feet there are two floors more and ice sliced on ground the rounder qualities pleased to find the bottom the throttle the full pull forward I am brushing the rushing trees out of the way as I play the harmonica backward with hurried air unwilling to share this seat this heat this back upon which I can lean there are miles in between but the greener the day the easier we play songs we wrote we will we build the future I have planned to send some numbers I am listening to all comers but the packages are racked with confusion the illusions of success bested as the words are wrested from my mouth I am waiting for a ring jingling into the wrong number I am tumbling ice cubes into unlisted phones I am chrome and I am shiny I am easily defined I am loosely aligned with goals I have whole rolls of bread but instead of a head I have a flowering cactus we distract ourselves from ease with breezes blown into our own cupped hands landing on our chilly noses blooming roses redder than chapstick cutting right to the quick and licking the tickling away

Thursday, January 21, 2010

post 21 january

justwrite 20 january

go to sleep now little bits of paper fall from the sky piling up into texty piles the while you startle the morning will come and strung along in letters will be memories you never had you will gather them together the bouquets the ways you stay together and keep your mind intact a stronger impact winking at the stars tarring all the feathers into one great bird absurd in its flightlessness but quite a mess to be reckoned with I am helpless in my own surprise while the eyes dawn wider the morning quite tidier and surprising on the horizon as the captain distracts his sacred purpose toward an unrehearsed destination there is a diner and the pie is on fire the coffee for hire I can not tell you how thoroughly I appreciated that show that growing need to succeed has been fading I am waiting for the perfect purpose to present itself warmer than the shelf on which fresh bred rests I am testing the diction the pronunciation a fascination with accuracy a tree growing in the night while the birds sleep in on its nested shoulders waking up closer to the clouds allowed to smile aloud at last lest the sun change its mind you’ll never take mine but there’s time to twine those ropes those hopes there are twenty-three letters in that alphabet spelling out what’s next but there is time to read it later for now I am dancing in someone else’s mirror wondering what’s clearer through that other window shivering a little as the floor heats up and the ceiling cools down right beside the blinds I can see it all I can call out for credit and I can spend it like cash I can catch the trash and give it its own parade set up an umbrella to make shade and tickle a picnic under its red and white chin beginning again with watermelon and tricky felons carried off by ants entranced with their novel appeal ready to write a book about that long black line

justwrite 19 january

unfortunately disinterested splinter-fed instead of soothed with the honey the youthful truths setting free calamity and other janes plain enough to plan bluffs and toughen up the rougher edges I was climbing hedges all the time when I knew how to line my eyelids but it’s true I did not it’s true that I caught my teeth in the doorframe and had to shuffle off hurriedly before anyone got my name there are arrangements I am unwilling to make pies that I wish I could bake shepherd’s or absurd alternate suggestions we are teaching lessons that don’t need to be learned we are lighting fires with wood that won’t burn and also with matches snatches of other conversations with questionable destinations the festive rights and the leftbehind chimes I am climbing up the clocktower and helping myself to seconds I am hesitant in the celebration of my own hilarity for often there’s some disparity between the way I see things and the surprises my dreams bring like last night pressed tight between too many blankets meaning two a thankless pile of distractions kept my mind from calming no balms to be had in those glad hands no command of the language damaging solace call us and we will give you directions we will stress our protection is unlimited I have not been to the other side of the street I cannot meet myself coming I am humming in interrupted chords we are ignoring the answers we had hoped to find the lines I will take will belong to myself only I am feeling lonely in the sense of potatoes the way things go I cannot accept responsibility please forgive me for my space I am chasing the tale worth telling I am smelling the dinner before it cooks and the dirty looks I give myself in the dark hearken back to some kind of sense I cannot mention what I thought you said but let’s just let it be as the barking tree climbs up the wrong dog and the white house gets build out of Lincoln logs the boggy firths turning bad to worse with their vocabulary fiascos glowing neon in ridiculous array

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

justwrite 18 january

justwrite 18 january

I am listening to music that might be bad it might be a sad excuse for loose chords and lyrics that can’t explore more than the rhyme they seek there are peeks around corners but not glances taking chances past respect why do they have choruses like that I can’t see them for the freeze the sense that I could put up with something a little bit better but as if I know so much I’m out of touch with my own pretendings I am lending serious reflection to my mirror clearer than metaphors we are putting up we setting down our feet and starting to run as the ice comes undone I am from the future I am a piece of the past I am lasting until first we are rehearsing again looking toward the second track and I’ll take back what I said there is only one there is another of the same and the train loops it’s not a record but it’s close enough we’ll just mark it down get out get out it says and I pop it stop it like a rocked pot never boiling I am replacing it with the next phase and I cannot suppress disappointment but what have I done lately have I made more than a plate full of mashed potatoes out of these days there are stays of execution and there are carrots that get chopped I’d like to opt for a schedule somewhat more predictable but then I might be evictable from this challenge course forcing no moves other than the ones undone by onions I am coming up with ideas and laying on the floor and what’s more I am accomplishing I am flourishing on ice and disney forgives me for what else can it do but this band must go too and we’re through with experimentation I am leaning toward the new now deviating toward a title I don’t revile trumpeting a reveille and we are our own most hilarious enemies we are climbing trees and wearing t-shirts and while it hurts to know the distance the resistance to disappointment is growing and showing strength in the certainty it’s not hurting me irreparably although please

Sunday, January 17, 2010

post 17 january

justwrite 17 january

you’re a lucky one that plucky gun shoots in cahoots with the moon crooning over those rivers the lakes mistaken as parking lots by certain cars the stars leading the seagulls toward sales flail at the percentages falling down the crowns the boats where when they cross the line first the worst of which is the anchor is the stink of stagnation we are featuring fascination with a few behaviors the saviors will be our own help the wealth of knowledge when you were in college when you stalled that shower the rain again the stand of ferns in the corner waiting for their turn I have earned certain rights but you can’t go home against the wind the bins are overturned and the thrift is what I’ve missed while I’ve been walking in the dark the ice is a little not such the rusty trust can’t be resumed the fumes of thought plume upward I caught a bird with my eye but I let it go I thought so many wonderments I caught a bit of an idea and I sewed it into my hair I have no cares for the weary no plans to be bleary in the morning but I am storming ideas I am lessening my plans my crayons are out of order and ought to be sorted but the cleaner they are the greener the cars the sun the sky becomes and everyone else is confused when I use these theories the wearier ones come undone and smile stylishly out of context the corrections are certain and the white is out but the doubts climb aboard there is a stagecoach there are no results to announce there is a southbound train and a northbound frame but the angles are unapproachable we are moving toward zaprozhia and I cannot tell you all the letters they are tangled in a different mouth I am hoping for the berries I am making some merry but at my own pace there is no race I will run without my legs and I am pegged in that square round hole of my own design and up it I climb and I reach higher

justwrite 1516 january

when I call my own name out loud I shroud the sense in a dense land of reasons there are treasons we cannot pay back a track of nextdoor storage units pouring through it like a circle made of cheese breezing down the way the play not the thing to be trifled with a personality split by tongues there are sound effects neglecting each bite each sprite notwithstanding out of handing an Indian restaurant a haunt of medical students and the truant spices the lentils too nice for this rice and which trams do fuss over which bus will take the road there which mode will hold its own which cologne will hone in on an elastic wasteland the clinking of bottles waddling back and forth the course is not north but the west offers best rest available retailable and not failable in such circumstances there are dances but they are with wolves they have full bellies heavy with veggies but the leisure they take is to wake and to find time to align chimes to grind rhymes to a halt with the right grains of salt on these inches of ice and I find quite as nice the profusion of dice shuffled in a cup held by a monkey and shaken while being stirred

justwrite 14 january

on the train the draining the lane of gators there are taters and they are fried there is an ocean and it is wide we decide for ourselves which healths are chosen first which burst goes unrehearsed once the hearse goes by we surprise ourselves and our wealths of information lead to fascination I am taking my boots off I am scoffing at noise I have toys too joyful for words I have absurd hopes for knowing all those jokes without the words all I’ve heard and all you’ve said we’ve read the books we always wanted to write and we’ll bite our lips with eclipsed smiles styling all the while as the miles add up we have cups full of garlic and the sun won’t shine the author won’t line your own pockets with a locked stocking barrel I have a werewolf behind me but if I don’t look he can’t find me and I will wind we will bind our tongues hung out like discreet feet dancing to blaring theme music the truth it’s bound to be set free eventually and we we dow our best we pass our tests we rest our eyes in surprise it’s the only town like this town I am not frowning in response but there’s a safe bet I want another outcome I’ve passed over the humdrum and the cold and that old gleam in the eye is the way to light the fire the way we softly retire to the same sleep deepens the velvet the crushed lush appreciation I find fascination in this shared destination never knowing where or when and how but happy knowing yes

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

justwrite 13 january

when I ferried across that river I delivered a shiver a giver of chocolates appeared and I feared the rain would wash away all the vanilla the fellows downtown ran around the numbers and hatched clever plots but they haven’t caught me yet I can’t get acquainted with the carbon-dated coal whole diamonds full of mines and yours and scores of other finds we are chiming our time and lining our pockets with markers when we dance our pants turn blue and green the themes we meant to write to grade are passed by unafraid of marks the dark is too cold and the warm is too bright we will have to share our answers tomorrow I have no way to say hello but to call out for a hand and when I reach forward into the elsewhere who can say what reaches back who can imagine what track I will have to follow to call all the kettles back into line that chime of sugar ought to be avoided but you’d probably be annoyed if I told you the truth which is mainly that youth is wasted on the idioms the guesses the answers the strategies we can please and thank our banks with their infinite wisdom and those schisms outlasting the right and the wrong and strongarming the alarming trends setting off the fires and the carbon monoxide and we can’t confide confine realign I have tines on my fork but I can’t purport to sense I have a spoon in the drawer but what’s more is that works less than a knife where bread is involved and the way this is solved is through sauce is through the cost of a stamp and it’s damp enough to cuff your pants in the romance of a slushy evening but if it’s too much lower than freezing there’ll be no one breezing through the way long enough to say shedriy vecher dobriy vecher and then where will you be

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

justwrite 12 january

last night I had a dream or maybe I had awake it was the feeling of my heart beating too loudly there was someone outside my bedroom door and what’s more I wanted to pound from the inside and scare him away and say don’t think no one hears you because I do but then I remembered that there is no lock on the door and when you press on it it pushes outward and if I pounded I would open this door and I could not get out of bed to start with and if I did what would I do and if everything outside of this room was stolen what would I still have and it’s lucky I grabbed my coat earlier and now it’s on the other bed instead of hanging it up out there in the unsafe there is no way to tell what sounds fell on my ears to set this into motion but I went to bed early and I guess I just won’t do that again that’s a destructive behavior right there and who cares if you sleep more if you can’t store up those hours straight through and what scares you wakes you up in the night and binds you with fright my heart was pounding and I thought this is what it feels like this is anxiety I have no immunity there was confusion and maybe illusion but I laid quite still until the danger passed and I have no recollection of whether I redirected my thoughts successfully or if I simply fell asleep deep in that cold dark fear nearer to the pillow than the door nearer to the dark than security and what and who and how and why but mostly if and when

Monday, January 11, 2010

justwrite 11 january

we are ferrying the area out of the way zahoditey is the way to say that we are scattering ashes to plant our rosebuds while we may and we stay ahead of the curve avoiding the urge to shout or to doubt too loudly we are proudly waving flags of our own design we are criming the time to steal all we can I have a plan to sleep early to wake up firmly prepared for the day to stay alive and thrive in the promise of ice with the nice ideas freezing their knees like skirts hurt by the lack of attention when we trip into the dimensions sight unseen there are depths between causes there are sentences without clauses but these are simple they are declarative or questioning and imperative won’t be mentioned here can’t be won’t be mustn’t be steered into the holding tank to bank and when the park is dark there are noises I’ve heard or I’ve heard that they can be heard I have words with these pretendings fending for myself I am piling up health to keep it in store like pretzels and more surprises in search of the lurching coinage I wanted to ride the bus I wanted to make a fuss with a fifty but it wouldn’t be right it’s darker than night and the answers again are settling out of the tea bag dragging dregs across my legs and slowing me down crowning those glories like a storied existence the resistance of the few and the futile to too many noodles like the buttery shutters being closed when the sun goes to be but instead there’s a hurry of curry flurrying around the lessons down the patch of sunlight and catching the bright the chance of too much to do mixed with the fear that it’s true and the tendency toward dependency on saying yes on dressing for stress although whatever goes comes along down and up and there’s a song but we cannot be sure we cannot have more than one answer I used to know a dancer but then she turned into asleep and the moral of that glory is the more we want to know the less we can find out without doubting

Sunday, January 10, 2010

justwrite 10 january

as the downloads up I am cupping my hands together and blowing the weather away there is no rain that can stay on these plains mainly or partially we are laughing free and easy as the oven calls that bluff stuff you hadn’t imagined grabbing over and under the fabled table able we are ready we look steady onward forward I will reach that far and you can drive this car we are saving our licenses for the added values we know trousers cannot pay for themselves we have elves to do our dishes and fish to paint our wishes into watery sunlight spilling over the windowsill and down into the mud the snow the buttered bread heading onto the plate a fated egg hatching catching the light brighter than the reflections that appear in every direction or a correction I cannot make these stars shine I cannot make the clock eat time once the bus comes we will rumble there will be a jungle full of confederates we have met the enemy and he is trusting with his eyes wide and white and the sight is unseen between the lines I am confining these chimes to the relative east the feast we cannot fathom a famine that cannot bake its own fake its own I am wondering where the wandering will end and who will fend for ourselves as we take the cake as we lake our churches and placate the lurches forward and onward the time unrhymed the syllables uncounted it never amounted to enough there was never a bluff to call tough enough again with the repetition there is no strength in such division we are jetting forward there are more words than reasons there are more seasons than pie I am trying to watch a movie I am trying to keep the truth free and easier than production and if you would like a muffin then you might as well just open your mouth and soon traveling south will be a merry line of blueberries reading and willing to fit that billing and style your smile into purple crocodile

Saturday, January 9, 2010

justwrite 9 january

when you stand yourself up on your head you will imagine instead that your feet don’t quite meet expectations or perhaps the roof and this truth will not set you free but will wave like a breeze saying hello to the trees much more gently than before but what’s more is the noise in the courtyard and you’d have to try hard to ignore it and I’m sure it makes sense to someone else but I can’t help but question what lesson anyone is learning with those voices churning up and grating out peeling a potato with a razor and there’s no way the light is on either it’s a raw call a crow falling into reasoning with a cloud too loud for song there is a strong sense of disappointment of confusion of a falling away of illusions like too much tissue paper like the right kind of Styrofoam made of starch parched as the day is long as the idiom is strong but what I can’t believe is how many other callers the yellers the stallers are making their responses known and if I had grown accustomed to the words I might not find it so absurd to have overheard from the third floor and what’s still more is that it’ll happen again and I haven’t a plan about what to do and how to get through the reckoning with no directions home or past or lasting through the universe uncapitalized and unrehearsed and what’s best is the rest of the sleep still to be had and the glad sun that will appear at some intervals wondering about those decisions and looking forward to revisions even before the draft is done have you spun your webs out of control are you holding tight to the corner and when you dry your hair will there be a fair number of reflections or will you make the corrections with a bucket just tuck it all up under there the wisps will fair as well as the willows like they always say while they’re caroling through the soup and wondering who will make it off the bus in time

Friday, January 8, 2010

justwrite 8 january

if this was my way my day would be clear the steering wheel would not have fallen off the horse and the leaves would still be on the breeze the trees having shrugged them off temporarily before pulling them close the most pressing matter is to scatter those ashes outside of the city walls the call to arms much less a means for harm than a suggestion a misdirection a correction of the white-out shouts I am falling and I am dancing with myself drinking the wall to its health I am standing in line for a sign and when the phone talks itself out I will doubt it will ever ring again those strings tied up in fetching knots having caught that wave having sat on top of the world I have curled my eardrums outward we are worried about the teacups but the battles are running loose no caboose will catch that train no engine will number those nine those paintings waiting for the museum to open so they can exhibit those feats of strength those spelling wheels running loose and wild faster than a child with a smile and a lollipop waiting for the clouds to pop and all the stars to fall I am surprisingly busy with these trends the fenders and all their guitars not to mention benders and other such puppets cannot take the last laugh cannot laugh best while the rest of the bridges go both ways an independent haze seems to vanish like a rock and roll horoscope really sloping upward steeply turning deeply into the minutes when you type you find more in it although wrists are meant to be steady and the words I’ve said already are not to be misread are not to be interpreted the worst is to pretend that all your friends are not and in the corner you can be caught with a cap on your head instead of a grin and spinning won’t escape you even if that worked as a verb you might have heard about yesterday but I cannot say it isn’t true although when you knew first you probably thought the worst I’ve rehearsed my reply but why and how and when remains to be seen at the end of the idiom

Thursday, January 7, 2010

justwrite 7 january

this is the number where you have to take a hand and land feet first up like toast popping without stopping I have ridden the train again and I did not arrive in spain this time either I am imagining a fever but feeling fine I am dining on wineries and whole oceans of onion-themed crackers we are laughing at ourselves at our reflections and we are making mock of those clocks those turtlenecks can not do any better in this weather in any forgetter of devices we are nice we are forgiven we are living according to more generous natures I am not eating the wrong sugar I am liking no fish and the dish you served this season was once again without reason I am embarrassed but no one knows why I am laughing my way into a pie and out again sanding the paper like no smooth rules have edges we cannot dredge up the past we cannot last another lifetime apart when our hearts grow rosy and bright the light like a reindeer’s nose glows and the show goes on the strong get weaker and the bleak find beekers in which to draft experiments meant to save us from our futures we are creatures of a certain habit and when we grab it up and hold it close our noses suppose that roses grow out of those flashing eyelashes we are secure and sure and were there to be an earthquake there are some things that would not shake and for this I’d like to say yes and feel blessed in the nonwestern sense in the eastern case capitalized for survival and early arrival depending on priorities and the cheese that keeps the garden green the feelings we’ll have again in between reasons I have got to tell you so well you know me and this goes to show me all my fillings are just excuses I can smile with loose toothes and you will not correct these mistakes these breaks I take these steps I make out of loose change we will rearrange our calendars with numbers straining as through colanders to contain the waiting and the high rating of each task the exclamations marked and the writing bold and dark this is the day but along the way and more we will store up our acorns until the rainbows bloom

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

juswrite 6 january

when I listen to the news of the world I feel swirled and delighted in ignited sparks there is a dark and a light brite all night long those little neon pegs twist their legs in merry time they are shining they are dining in a rhyming time station I wish my posture was good enough to alleviate frustration I have tales to tell I have a hint of a smell on the back of my throat coated with coughing syrup and if you could just hurry up you would know that to sow isn’t always to reap but if you’re keeping track it’s most often true and there are times that you would be advised to believe it I cannot deceive it as a matter of fact as a track record a prophylactic onion and some garlic on the side hiding all the matters from the horn and climbing every mountain dancing in the fountains I will do my best to test the rest of those corners on my knees I am free from the hiding but I cannot escape the hiding the riding out the storms the quelling all possible norms when you imagine tragedy does it look like we will be making the train or starting again two hours later in different weather when we’re together are you thinking of drinking in a different view and what’s stopping you from hopping on the next bus backward and when you got there would it be fair to say goodbye or were you thinking to try would be feasible and what fees will you have to pay will I have to stay up all night fighting the good right the left the one-two the three we cannot be and the four who wish they could pick up sticks but have not the wrists for it you want to ignore it but what’s more it will not be moved

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

post 5 january

justwrite 4-5 january

when I read that book I cooked that hook into a line and sinker dilemma I could send you packing but when you lack those snacks you will hope to attack the retractions you will hope for another conjunction you will wonder at the latest functions to multiply to divide to exponentially forget the order of operations your fascination will be decimated your tomatoes will be crushed and all the rush and the rest will stress the best and wrest the test from development we are meant to be together in this weather and many others there are structures I have built there is a strength I can offer a force like the good but cleaner like the green but steamier I have a creamy tooth a sugary boost and when I am truthful you will see the useful conditions are missing you will be surprised to surmise that all of these offers can be made you will save so much dough you can cook your own planet you can can it and keep it for lunch you can touch your nose with your wishes and brush your teeth with fishes but I just don’t recommend that as a choice I couldn’t defend that I can talk and talk beyond the point of interest but if someone delivers us I would not refuse to accept I would take that payment and give change I would rearrange my answers I could not take stronger stances than those I know the passions I show are definite my energy is not infinite but I have bruises and confused truths resting on my seat I cannot defeat the sense of quietly mentioning the right decision but without more attrition we will overflow and undergrow our expectations which is a cake I refuse to bake much less to eat

Sunday, January 3, 2010

justwrite 3 january

justwrite 3 january

let us depart starting from the beginning we are spinning webs and the hedges are coming up high the sky is falling out of place off the hook I looked for all season no reason for the present but I wanted it I took it like a book off the shelf and to no better health no higher calling just stalling in the broth coughing and looking the other way I could stay outside all night and talk about the stars I have far-off ideas but the reality is they freeze under pressure there is no leisure for the weary no bleary eyes can surprise my sleep I am keeping my options up for adoption I would like to tell the truth and tell it straight but the listening would fall your ears off would ask you to step outside and take a breather there are reasons for walls and also fences or at least filters wilting under time and energy the attempts to keep it all up and to sup at the same table when able I have got to say today there will be a different start there are snowflakes falling and the stalling can only last a few more minutes jump into it like your choices and they are yours and there are scores more on and on and I will listen I will practice patience and generosity and other things that seem appropriate and I will ask for the same in return I will earn vanilla sugar out of the cabinet grabbing it up with my tongue and so many unsung dishes delicious and unattractive with their adaptive use of leftovers let me be such a dish let me make sense in the stomach if not to the eye

Saturday, January 2, 2010

justwrite 2 january

justwrite 2 january

yesterday I was tired of firing off cannons and I took a break I shook a shake a leg I take bets and answers but I’m surely no dancer as the prancers all can vouch for I can tell you there’s a couch made for me but the tv doesn’t reach that far into the stereotype and no potato’s that ripe for the baking that primed for the taking reaching deep down into the brown ground and surprising the worms inquiring beside and hiring the hides to stand closer and imagine moster and more and storing up the apples until the dapples catch up to the mare and I hope you’re not disappointed to find this so disjointed I am telling you there’s no swelling in these feet no neckwrench I can’t meet with an affected smile and there’s a certain style to this idea there’s a wild ride inside these feelings occasionally reeling with shame or claiming the same is not the issue there is no tissue worth turning into a muscle to strongarm its way past the macaroni and this is where you know there’s no turning back no track to keep off no scoff to return with a backhand a glance I can’t stand to see and offending me in its lack of offense no recompense for those sweetbreads left instead on the windowsill those twelve dishes still warm enough to stuff into the mouths of the recently left the welcome to the table for those still able to swallow and the celebration without doubt just closeness the mostest important thing

Friday, January 1, 2010

post 1 january

justwrite 1 january

often I start with a departure from the desire not to begin there is within a sense that mentioning going or beginning is like winning the ending there is no start that can’t be partially made of a stared-through window the white space the snow replacing colors dampening senses and freezing cheeks cheapened by loneliness there is dust between the window panes glad to be doubled but troubled by inaccessibility no one can reach in and unspin those webs those threads of gray across the way and when someone goes by seen from a mile high or the third floor they seem more than distant they seem resistant to interpretaion but still fascination keeps the eyes glued until they grow used to the sound the echos resounding through the couryard bouncing hard off of walls interrupted by flashing lights of the right kind the twinkly finds with three in a row from the same shop the stall called off and the switch turned on there are songs I was thinking of playing but the way the wind is blowing leads me to listen more closely for the roasting of comfort across the honeycomb of homes I can hear the bread baking sweetly yeasty next door and taste the crisp paper torn at an angle off of the next best gift I am lifting up the pink-coated child wildly chasing herself across the yard and meeting her face in the snow there are sleds and one more to grow on with grandparents to know on and the trash and shouts to overflow on