justwrite 15 march

while there’s no place like home there’s no space like a foam floating hour towering over the heads of a mislead afternoon I am imagining the sequence of events as insequential but consequential notwithstanding undemanding I am drinking tea that is green and thinking of a scene that is the same the idea is to free enough parts to start the heart again to climb aboard whether it’s a balloon or the moon there are roads and yellow and bricks but so rarely do they come together so rarely the weather is fair it’s unfair to have to pay such fares for farewells but so long the goodbyes and so high the ticket prices I will tell you where my finger have gotten to and I will imagine the wildrice as a different spice of potato there are no good stories that can be ruined except when you give yourself up when you cup your ears and box your shocked socks in and out of tense I forgot to mention the ideas you meant to have I forgot to remind us both of the open road the quotients we cannot multiply the division so far from joy that the ways are unbearable I cannot compare full text with neglected wrecks and the daughter in the ballad is always glad to see the ship return but how often her waiting earns nothing of value the mermaids have been busy and the seahaze is dizzy and jack is not there when she goes to sea and the song we sing in beauty the voice of a campfire and the hired maturity of a distant tale twisted into a velvet cloak and the smoke lending mystery to such a history the crew tells the wind swells and the waves wash away all but the song