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