justwrite 14 march

despite the hourglass I am powerless to substitute those hours how the showers will bring flowers and where the pilgrimages will lead to rocks or to Gibraltar who will falter and who will fade into the waves when we stretch our hands across the ocean do we feel only foam or where does home fit into the fingers do the lingering wonders blunder across the stage in poorly phrased monologues and who will interrupt me I am pleased to see the map but I cannot tell where it will lead I cannot feed myself on paper alone and the stone’s throw from here is too far to fear I am leery and weary in the same breath preferring to imagine what’s next as an easyrise sun over toast at the most convenient moment spread across and sided by a donut and most likely coffee we are toffeeslow and caramelsmooth in our reminiscences of a future worth creating but the dating of each event is meant to be pushed back is meant to be tacked onto a strong-armed farewell to today I can’t stay too long I have to pack I can’t wait forever I have to get back to the start of the ending and we’re all pretending that the sun will shine on the snow as it did today as pulled me away from washing dishes with a flash of delicious surrealism the schism between the freezeframed catalogue of what I’d like to order and my hankering for disorder too closely linked for a rhyme but the parsley and sage will have to keep up the rosemary too hairy for a second glance but we are all going to the fair oh and such a one in this village and all the children and their sweets and their mothers and their pottery the poetry of Cossacks and their tracks made their wide steppes having leapt through the pages and arrived back into retranslated states of the union untying all confusion with ceremonial pomp and romping through a friendly farmyard carding all the animals and asking who will buy the next round ground