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