justwrite 6 february

that little old problem has to solve itself there was another story to be told but hold your hand in your hatband and wait for this one to come through there are truths I keep in my back pocket but I keep sitting on them and that’s the flat-out problem I want to solve all of those fears I want to steer clear of broadway the tower the flowers blooming and zooming I cannot listen to music without making it my own rhythm I direct the corrected versions there are bananas and there are no reasons to hide under the boardwalk there’s an unmistaken lake where those geniuses love to shove the sand stand on their heads instead of sitting on their behinds all the time I have a carouself on my shelf around and around those horses cavorting and this is enough I can eat that bluff stuffed with raisins praising my own memory with a shivery dose of reality I cannot plan I cannot scan my own answers for the right one there’s no tight one water will be frightened of there’s too much flexibility a proclivity for cake baked with apples or pine of the same kind or a chocolate talkblock whatever that means I haven’t seen the recipe but I’m interested I’ve bested this track and I can make it back to sense did I mention I cannot listen and write I cannot stay up all night I have to translate I have to fate my find underlined in squiggles so fine my eyes intertwine them with the letters and so much better together unlike those pancakes turning into hope made of waffles coning the coined phrases and lazing about in rhymetime a station I would prefer not to leave or to turn but when the train pulls out I’ll be looking for the bus and trusting for reality to catch me as I fall asleep or fakeawake and take another slice rightnicely