justwrite 17 february

where in the world and the sterling silver dinner plates were the later saints the dated faints in surprise all cataloged and aligned with the stars their farces notwithstanding undemanding overhanding the shots the lowballed calls for the curtain to fall earlier for the sturdier steps to be met with heavy clumps the stumps the feet the street the wheat and the chaff and like I always say I want to play percussion but it’s not for nothing that I don’t I won’t be second-guessed I won’t be redressed and the best chance I have to be caught is in something I ought not take like a peanut butter pile like a while ago I had some ideas and last night I had some dreams some of which seemed quite right after night meaning in the morning after the dawning because certainly it’s not so early when I get up I mean maybe I’m awake but I’d stake an easy claim that there’s no chance it’d be before the sun or maybe one in one hundred because sometimes but anyway there were some where I thought well of course you don’t need an editor and someone there will do much better and also another one where someone else was something to you and everyone knew but me and then I saw your message I missed our meeting I missed our meeting and I knew and so true it seemed but when I woke I was squeamish at first embarrassed at second at having reckoned such a sentiment into a dream but we have only so much steam and only so many ingredients expediently added to our slushy mushy minds that it happens all the time when everyone else has the control and the whole world watches what will happen when you wake and walk on