justwrite 31 may

seems like a waste to chase space a lake that lurks in the dark waiting to park in the middle of your lots the generous nature of contagion raging against the scene and wanting what’s in between the lines to be said for too easily read are the wrong words the misheard assumptions there’s something that’s worth nothing to listen to I am telling you and also myself it’s a matter of health and unreasonable raisins turning albums into applesauce and there are clocks that can’t keep up were you wondering where the plundered goods went bad were you thinking about drinking in the moonlight or giving flowers or changing hours for minutes just to see what’s in it for yourself there are elves and also selves making those arrangements it’s not just with greenery there’s scenery I can’t change faster than the curtains open we are all hoping for sales we are hoping for the never-fail whales of inland lakes to take our breath away with suddenly known understanding there are always parties and assorted chocolates but what’s at the bottom of the box is at least more interesting to start with let’s dump sense upside down but don’t pick up the dimes the pennies planted plentifully in the sidewalk ignored as if talking back with a bad attitude a cheap tongue hung out shamefully with chapped lips slipping insolence into your soles step aside hide your tender side ride with your hand over your heart and also your mouth it’s an inauspicious position but the way these strawberries are flying to your cheeks it’s a wonder nothing leaks into the sky the sunset can’t let it rest there are hours still to go and the sleep that stopped last night and restarted in varied parts with delivery pysanky and other symptoms up for analysis buzzed its miniscule business in my ear until I feared it remained in my brain in the insolent haze of missed sleep deep enough to see from far away but too shallow to drink from this shore

justwrite 30 may

thank you for your attention thanks for the dimensions you’ve added worth subtracting the contractions of the eyes and the surprise dilation the summation of touching that dial and landing on a smile unnoticed the hocus pocus of other features creatures of their own designs and no minds can mind mine own my phone-home frequency the alien surroundings the crowning delicacy of taking a messy interpretation and turning it into a book here look you can see if you slow it down if you measure a frown but you can’t you can only see what’s real can feel what you know but to show the truth takes an uncouth amount of attention please repeat what you said I was mislead from the beginning your winning style and political linguistics play easy tricks with the ears but it’s the eyes that mind the most that toast victory before the bread is out of the oven there are dozens of such tricks the Olympics of games of chance of romance and also of business the busy stress of catching on is long-gone in that mind but we the rest we the tellers of truths do our best to keep up we cup our hands full of information we seek satiation if not satisfaction and the attraction can’t be denied much less defined much of the time but we still make charts we open hearts for surgery when it’s really more of a blurry line and I’m not sure I’ll find room for discussion in the reading guide like a skeptic perplexed but unwilling to turn to find what’s next we can stall but for how long and we can be weak but still how strong you need to act to detract from your own suspicions we are glistening stars in the night of sense of darkness but it is too black to see more than fingers much less feelings stealing any sort of spotlight it’s not bright enough to take that recipe and transfer what we see back and forth in the course of human events less than two seconds still we’re meant to do so and that’s the way the story goes otherwise abruptly we’d fall off the sidewalk or talk ourselves out of most everything with a swinging smile or overdose on morose agreement a spree sent to see what’s to come next in the best of scenarios the daredevil hypotheses still just trees and nothing like the forest that ought to be before us

justwrite 29 may

straying off the beaten path leaps back to the forefront the mind game the searching for names in the rain there are stages we cannot sing from we are ringing bells to last past the next opening the bulls and the bare arms in the volleyball sun I am running forward and facing the grass the feet beneath the dirt stirred up and clouding the water which lands as rain the certainty can’t touch me now there are too many questions the answers are lessons I need to learn myself the health I’ll seek out in watchtowers in phrases from longago poems knowing them is more than half the craft and when I laugh the pearls appear scattering like a widespread swatch of strawberry jelly in the idea of love there are troubles and solutions and in the space between we’ve seen our own reflections turn in other directions there are no wrong decisions there are right collisions and the derision with which we face unfortunate solutions pretends revolution and fails to size up what’s already gone on we are strong and we are hesitant we know I show you throw down cards you’ve been holding for months and a hunch is more unfortunate than truth or at least in a useful sense we can offer recompense of the vaguest kind I’ve defined my goals on a different sort of level I thought I was clever I thought that I’d never have occasion to say but in the meantime between now and never there are levers to be pulled and buttons to be pushed we are hurrying slowly in that direction and I am playing basketball in the dark from my window with my ears they have no fears for falling or losing the score what’s more I am afraid and drowning in second-thoughts but what’s bought has not been paid for what’s more what’s less important is the sorting out of doubts there ought to be a solution that makes use of reason the logic inherent in some other forms of intellect but I haven’t enough thoughts to collect that add up to anything more than storage-ready reminiscences a memory you said and I guess you must have meant it

justwrite 28 may

applejack station a tune-in destination the lifestyle of the richly imaginative a secret tragedy behind every raised eyebrow an unacknowledged bow accompanying every success we are the dreamers of scenes that can’t be colored by any numbers the blunders over the lines just fine rhyming with actuality subtracting the totality of the sum from the whole of its parts the mechanical triangles equal to the unfair squares parading in geometrical brilliance daring to be doubted daring for their angles to be called out and found wanting contracting protractors to thwart their detractors these are the benefactors of excess knowledge must here rhyme with college but nothing known is too far thrown away just scattered a little and buried beneath but perhaps within reach like dreams two hours ago wrapped up and clapped up or stressed over when awakened shaken by the sensation that this is not where I closed my eyes something has happened in between that was more than a dream and in a recent recollection I was certain both that I was dreaming and awake and in this fake reality I had finished here and was at staging again for a country that started with b and might’ve been Bengal for all that’ll do and it was in asia not to be fazed there were no backstories just the next step was the same one in a different direction and I was packing and thinking and collecting pillows and wondering how it’d be to repeat and how neat at staging to know something of how the show would go on and it seemed like no problem just an answer when you don’t know what to go back to who to be and other such wonders then step in a different direction plenty of time for correction and you’re free to go at any time but it’s your dime and it’s real shiny so you might as well spend it or at least lend it toward something rewarding

justwrite 27 may

confused about where yesterday went there ought to be a sentence here or two but it’s true I see none and sojourner turns out to be just more fun than Lincoln who’s drinking in pursuit of happiness and also there are clouds if I’m allowed to say so there’s a dayglo wondering waiting for some reckoning and I am not sure what I ordered but if the waitress walks by I’m not sure I’ll ask there’s just no task to be taken to no brakes to faken through I am wondering I am interesting in the anatomy of the question the shape of the dream losing steam and taking on water and losing water and picking up steam we are reaming through the paper we are layers upon lakes and stakes in the hearts of a thousand gardens hardening earth into seeds into plants forming vegetables out of color and ideas the suggestion of a hidden dimension beneath the soil pulled up with toil and some sun there is no way to say that we’re right there’s no height to stretch to no limit the wretched crew can’t push your new machine too sullen in the pit waiting for the valves or some kind of sign to blow the monitor the gauges working out in stages and sending signals no bigger than a watch hand a clock a pot never boiling out of body there are sodden clothes someone was wearing swimming in the dark a parking lot imagining warm flat on the pavement faceup sky pressing down blue comforter a scattered assortment of clouds none too loud to prevent sleep we’ll keep the leftovers we’ll shoulder what we can hold and await the next load the updates when we’re suddenly online and we find that there are no messages there are simply stresses of potential threats not yet but maybe so please don’t get please watch for please be careful and in the meantime download these updates up late we wait and wonder having been given no chance as the heart monitor dances in megabyte delight and the meter keeps running there was no decision just a collision with opportunity and if I had immunity before that doesn’t mean it works no it’s a pearly sow made out of a coinpurse rehearsed endlessly and undefended there is mending and breaking and we’re all taking chances listening and talking and talking too much a soft touch might do it but there’s no way to try just to do

justwrite 25 may

so when I write I look to see what words are used what stories are told do we hold in our hands in the singular sense a sentence with end punctuation or is tht information classified if I fried enough vegetables would there be dinner if I chopped the wood could there be a fire or is there only smoke when I broke the wings I imagined swimming instead they weren’t mine to begin with a startling discovery uncovering sleep in the form of a stranger the days lengthen and the numbers fall away I am listening but not quietly enough there are no decisions to make no reasons to take this out on anyone to walk it through the park after dark I am having trouble sleeping and keeping the hay in the bale never failing to wonder the wandering has grown routine and the scene cools as it heats up the schedule tries its best but the test must be simply passed or failed and the flailing doesn’t help the kelp pulls down underwater feet the shark the other films pasted to the wall call out for attention I would like to watch someone else’s movie for a while but in the meantime I’ll have to be fine writing my own it’s a zone unmistakable I am quiet I am waiting I am walking there are sounds to be spread but not from these eyes just my fingers playing the keys bored with the sound of slippers the other words hurrying into my teeth and released for satisfaction but no reaction when alone there’s no crowd admiring firing all the guns in salute in cahoots with higher expectations there are no limits go where else somewhere next the text will write itself just keep reading and seeding the clouds the daisies the unimagined architecture I am listening to the blueprints and they have no words they have conferred with the wind and they’re bringing deliveries just uncertain on the address the stress test passed or outlasted we are drastic in our interest we are uncertain of the feedback we are hungry for yesplease

justwrite 24 may

when points point out the next points it’s a constellation of you’d think I’d write information but it’s a conscious effort to avoid rhymes even those that ring righteously tightly aligned and in the end let me say that what we seem to know amounts to so little when we think about others just the right others I mean because the rest of the stage is filled with players forgetting their lines every other go and it’s a shame with the show on and on like that there’s no time to stop and re-run each take just moving on and I would like to say a lot of things and they come into my mind almost to my mouth never to the mirror that’s true I don’t do that either and I’d hardly admit it if I did would I should I explain where the salsa lady was going should I tell where the fountain missed the next refill the chilly air of evening moving toward a sweater it is impossible to tell the time and I like it this way I prefer to stir my straw and envision reviews of the passing lines let’s try again I mean there’s no way to ignore certain facts but the collective bargaining agreement leads to a belief there’s a wreath placed already and it’s a steady hand that says so it’s a guided forecast that can’t happen any other way I’ll say I can imagine it and I can suggest at such behest etcetera and the camera goes up the screen goes blank and the credits for there are so many and in five years and it’s still clear I haven’t got anything bought on the other side of the fog that’s been paid for there’s a lot more of where that sentiment came from so stick your interpretation in your ear and steer clear of clues this is not a detective who even says detective as if it’s a genre there are no mysteries here everything’s so clear I can stick my face in it and come up with mud there’s a mask there’s sincerity there’s clarity that no one can imagine I am tired of this sentence let’s repent for the accidental rhymes impossible to avoid if the flow is to be maintained you’re right stream of consciousness is my preferred place to swim and flail and if I should fail before I wake then at least I’ll be asleep at the time

post 24 may

justwrite 23 may

pictures not taken is I think the title though I’m not sure of what I am interested to know I admire the flow and when it happens and I’m hoping to adapt not so much to adopt new philosophies transplanted by enchanted seeming opportunities but open and opener the soapclean view and the truth to interpret all washing away the troubles in bubbles that might be clouds and I’ve allowed this to be foremost an enormous goal I am eating a role slightly stale and slightly filled with quite delicious jam which might contain pears caught unaware in an unexpected stage between tree and mouth the suspension of conclusion the peril of undefeat and what I mean is there are stories to tell and as well as many pictures as I’ve taken they often seem to faken the feel to detract from the real and steal details and so fail to represent what was meant or what was and as above discussed I’m thinking of having an idea and I’m looking forward to it and what if it passes the what-if stage and makes the leap from sight to mind to page despite the hazards the sand traps in between that mean harm and even the ones that don’t are moats of indifference to jump or swim across unless you brought a boat for I haven’t got one and what awkward fun to notice the British invasion the grammar inversions that get gotten good and we should return to the part where I was planning to have a plan and I mean that there are many things I’ve seen that I’d like to photograph but it’s an awkward laugh to think of actually taking the picture either dismissing the scene by the motion or changing the meaning with the noticed attention and sometimes I’m just not fast enough the moment doesn’t last enough to be saved and what’s more and also crucial in a more useful sense is how it represents my view as an outsider while trying to blend it’s harder to pretend to belong if I’m taking pictures of something totally normal in another’s eyes but no surprise to be seen as standing out no doubt just would like to minimize the rift and in conclusion I drift

justwrite 22 may

there’s go and a show and we know we sow the seeds of rain we buy books in vain and in modest recollection the collection grows the pig goes by on a leash and the Doberman across the street flinches and thinks to eat and sends his trained gaze into the haze of a pre-show smoke test all the rest and Canada oh the underexposure the northern closure and the western shoulder warmer none the older and fetching like a pretzel a treasure in another form the norm nowhere else and considering the shelf it’s not where I store my pickles and I’m tickled to be asked I’m classless and that was cheese not yogurt please to notice but the hocus pocus English magic stabs through the air the accent overaware and the celo’s not selling much more the way it’s going

justwrite 21 may

there’s no water but the heart of the matter is a well a spring a thing that winds itself and now you know what I’m reading I’m heeding signals beyond those that exist and anything that resists interpretation is swept up too in imaginative collaboration when the facts contract and leave no room for the sooner the later steps in instead and what’s ahead is now served fresh no leftovers no clovers with any leaves needed just the depleted resources replaced with something else a hand to give to deliver the clouds too loud for their own good but mistaking no way no how no cows to lead to pasture no horse to make drink just looking a gift in the mirror and counting teeth when we are released from our voluntary situation when we carve new destinations we wonder if we’ve already rhymed these words the absurd amount of oatmeal and the sunflower paradigm we shift we lift ourselves to proximity and we begin again where’s the shame and how does honesty stack up when we tack up posters and we check the table for coasters we are overlooking the rings in the wood the cracks on the wall the places where the tape ripped up and off a bandage managing to keep it together but not forever for there is no such and if I touch the bottom of it I’m wondering where the rest has gone there are matters too scattered to gather together in consensus and I mention this not for the edification of others but to reaffirm the ground the brown the black the earth stacked up to push me into the air slowly going the steps higher and the trees smaller when I am a kite and a parade when the shade makes its own meaning out of the letters I write I will send the night a package and I will unwrap it in my dreams

justwrite 20 may

well when you look at it that way there’s a whole bale of hay staying in place keeping the trace of a smile playing on grassy lips the slipdown sunshine twines its way through the thick air the moist fair day leaning back on two chairfeet the richer for the view unobstructed by construction we are functions of our own designs I have chimed the bells I have lifted the smells from the bakery no fakery of scents the sense long since drawn away sketched into another milieu and spelling you must forgive try to be bigger than a trigger finger you know better than that you don’t need that hat to see the stars you need glasses we can’t imagine past just take your time we are drifting we tend toward summertime icebergs caught in the same glass outlasting soda and pop and dropping from the top to the clinky bottom solving problems with draining one and then the other it’s a blunder often repeated if I said oft I’d sound conceited and so I’ve defeated by own sense and what I meant is lost in the melting deepfelt introspection aloud also allowed are other comparisons tangential or otherwise I’ve got all the time to listen lend me your ears your aches your pains I can’t complain too loudly at the sound of my own voice we are rejoicing for the weekend we are diving into the deep end and pretending to see the bottom look it’s so close you can reach you can touch fingers lingering longer into the glassblue water the pool of a thousand public red-eyes the surprise of chlorine and its glorious cleanliness next to the grass of the neighborhood the should have will be misdirected corrections of tenses we are the imperative we are tending toward merit-based rewards but the shores are full of books and not letters the cooks are steaming open hope and frying other more concrete artifacts and if you’re taxed in the interpretation remember there’s a rebate coming someday someday soon

justwrite 19 may

it may not be the yogurt it could be the devotion of an ocean of oil keeping the fire from the food the rude distance burned with learned enthusiasm I am sorry to have to tell you but this truth must be set free a caged bird having heard a new song and wanting for words to sing along I am strong enough to talk to myself and interesting enough to invent unexpected answers I am a dancer but without movement visible to even the most naked eye I have baked a pie I will eat alone and there is no phone that can call this far there is no guitar I will play with these teeth let us eat and let us wait for the rainbow growing from a backward storm before and after the signal flickered we waited for the tickertape but there was no parade just wading through the weeds and feeding ourselves to the lions warm and deceptively docile in their den and so we head forward into the dark golden depths I am regretting what comes next but there’s no way to skip ahead instead of behind I am timing my balance with the shoes I used to wear they were never silver but they were often black the track stretched out before me there were no keys I couldn’t reach with my long arms extended up-ended and bold I sold my eyes and then I bought my ears at a pawnshop with a lawn that wouldn’t stop I kept my toes and my fingers but I lingered when it came to elbows the knees I wouldn’t need if I were to learn to fly a helicopter straightup I would smile with surprising force and the sideways glance here tells me I owe it to you to tell some truth that will help that will melt my own ice cream but give you a chance for another try a new scoop there’s a strategy but I can’t reveal it all in one serving because I haven’t got all the clues I’m not as deserving as all that and a matter of fact is not in my opinion worth delivering as if it were as if the fir is only a tree and not some animal shivering without its self

justwrite 18 may

why is it that by the time I have a riot of quietous opportunity mobbing me from all silent sides there is too much tide to turn back too much rack to tack up to experience too many legs on those bugs scuttling underneath the everywhichway language barrier I am not integrated instead I will disintegrate complacently refreshing reloading every once in a green scene in between cheese and bread instead of meaty defeat we are scattering clues to use in later reconstruction it’s not quite a crime scene but the same themes hold true and where were you and why didn’t he but how could she and who took the last sip who wrote the last word absurdly out of keeping with the introduction we are our own destruction we are our own rewards solving swords and other pointy reckonings beckoning past the crucible other allusions and confusion where we have ideas and then they leave we want to write but often grieve the depth of field the lack of yield and again the trend I cannot defend the senseless sentences but so are they all all honorable and brutus the most and aren’t we all here to bury Caesar and not to praise him aren’t we all dressing on marc antony’s speech we reach outward into the elsewhere we compare our mirrors with clearer skin and blurred vision and lips that release only the right words we have heard our voices and we have wondered who wrote those scripts who can be held responsible and the answer is often surprisingly on the near side of the horizon

justwrite 17 may

plowing in the sky I spied an easy device a metaphor and what’s more I hurried forward brown earth spinning backward up and into the elsewhere the staring the contests I am winning I am losing my edge my self my phone my reception each correction another dimension farther away the state of the confederacy the dunces will we ever drink enough water will we falter will we keep ourselves together in the right number of pieces releasing the dogs the horses off to face every race the stakes never swept and neither the porch I have torched a thousand drafts I have tied a hundred rafts to new shores and the stories I ought to be telling ought to be swelling up in my fingers behind my eyes surprisingly headachefree at the moment but no donut too sweet to lick crumbs from no train arrival too full of survivalist tendencies our dependencies on foreign currencies I would like to start again there is a chicken see and then there’s a cow and how the garden grows is predisposed to be planned scandals and sandals and where was that going to go the flow continues more or less but it’s not always for the best and the rest of those statements made while the placements are still fresh the tomatoes the peppers the corn I am born each word again the lips eclipsing sense let me tell you and you can say the dreams are the only ones you can say they’re not to be or to have or to hold and who thinks that and who has a cat and loses it who chooses loneliness and who wants to write who bites the hand full of dust that trusts a thousand golden sunsets with the future of the species who is wondering about the origin who is originally organic who was on the titanic or other such stories the glories of the ongoing campaigns remain questionable and wholly unfulfilling unless you’re standing still with chocolate on your face and ice cream on your shoe and the truth is you are turned from easily where you is me

justwrite 16 may

I have thought about the cost I have bought a lot of hot peppers and the meaning the reason the seasoning all seem so unclear but I fear the elements of style are not caught in awe of such lines the self-defined rhyme patterns scattering every which why might be seen as unclear and the weary traveler has hardly bargained for more eyework the jerking motion of meaning needs devotion for following for calling all the experts in and shaking their chins without and within appreciation or fascination or perhaps confusion a part of the overall illusion an intrusion in the greatest sense I meant to tell you but I hadn’t the words I thought I’d fell a tree and replant three there I said it and I meant to make a few more mistakes and correct them but I accidentally tried to do right and I left undone those lost years those golden thrills and latenightmornings with scornful glances cast without catching anything in their shiny hooks cooking up diner breakfast and texmex messages I have business to conduct and the same with music using those hands to issue commands or numbers or grades shaved off the cuff we bluff ourselves and our health doesn’t help we are shallow and call all our own results to the rest of the class laughing away insecurity and failings I have all the letters in this alphabet and the next but still I haven’t thought out what to spell or how well that will serve as an answer I am chancing a bet I am dancing but yet sitting I am letting my fingers do the truth set free like a mystery train come on ride the allusion and let it go let the show on and on the beat written in one long roll a scroll of masterpiece of interpretation this is a museum we are all the ticket-takers we are the parade and inside we fade out ourselves and stare at the walls in awe we all are we drive cars or we don’t we pick the right cards or we won’t be able to win we play to spin the bottletop cannonball replica picked up at the general store and the major contention is a private dimension but the sergeant tips his hat having found the colonel of truth

justwrite 15 may

it’s a digestive question we’ll have to chew on it and I was almost hooked but then I looked at that datebook at that rolodex and recollected my thoughts I bought a ticket last week but I gave it back today there was no refund but coming undone again was a better way to spend those funds this morning I woke up with a start to use an idiom an idiotic one as if there are some that are fresh but what comes next is the upwaking and soulshaking when I realized how bright it was outside and how late I must be and you can’t trust the alarm clock apparently but of course you can and I was five minutes early and five minutes too late for sleep again but that’s how you tend to brew up waking the staking of claims the naming of names not your own we’ve blown through so many explanations I would like to know why and with what goals in mind to play to stay to shay’s rebellion to quell a felon and to wonder where the headaches break from what rocky shore what bumpy road what exploding pile of evidence the hot heat wetly flowing underfoot without looking it seems just another inconvenience not to mention while traveling alone but suddenly it’s known and at the side of the road we wait and wonder plundering facts from the snatched bits of conversation I am facing the situation with little concern perhaps overturned somewhere back there in a yoga fog or a sleepy bog but no matter the fleeting place to which it escaped I’m happy to have it gone and to save it to call it back for other ridiculous matters which don’t but at least I can choose to abuse such power in my own sleepless hours not be forced into fear by a roadside steer

justwrite 14 may

while I was sleeping the time before I had more than one dream and it seemed I was looking for shoes with some you but I’m not sure who and also there was someone else who kept showing up and I recognized him but he wasn’t who I was looking for which is true and also metaphor but we kept seeing each other in the loud crowd the passers-by shying out of view to make clear what wasn’t but still uncertain where you whoever could be and in the meantime I found some justfine shoes sneakers that looked untruthfully like a certain in-demand brand that I wanted but I turned to the next aisle and found another style the used oldschool sneakers and though the store wasn’t secondhand these shoes were either pre-used or so distressed that next I found a flap in the toe of one blue pair more than worse for the wear but exactly what I wanted and today I remembered my slippers are flapping the same way the left one and that’s why but what was next was a decision to return the flappedshoe back to the shelf and everyone was waiting everyone had left the store and more than that there was a spotlight on me because the rest of the store was darkening and so I was trying to hurry but still sort of worried I wished you were found so I could see what you thought and maybe if I bought another pair from that same shelf so I set back the blue ones and suddenly it was undone the shelf somehow toppled down the whole rack taller than me and yards wide colliding with the floor and sprawling shoes and confusion everywhichway and they were saying you you did it and I guess I did but it was so unreasonable that putting down a shoe would result in such tumult but then they were saying you have to pay for it where you meant me and you meaning you finally showed up and I was trying to explain what had happened and how ridiculous it was that I should have to pay and I knew you’d say I know I know but you were looking around ant all the mess with the wrong expression on your face and now awake I think yes this is my own mess you whoever you’re right

post 13 may

justwrite 13 may

it’s possible that I’m too old for trolls to be told about the gold in my pocket the locket pictured neckwise thrice and twice around the block there are clocks balking at the states but the colors red and blue bleed through the white there are nights I cannot sleep there are deep doubts and rainbow trout which are already plural without sending another letter along I bought a stamp I camped in the rain but the plain dealer the newspaper stealer the ice cream reeler we are all fishers of something and many of men but these are mostly easily bated hooks the looks the truth set free by itself to run around in the market to bark up all those skirts to listen ‘til it hurts and to pretend not to know the supposed blows coming to the nose the tissues misused in unimaginable tragedy the mess we see we clean and be clean easily the parts three and four my friends we can only content with one and two for now and that’s only on Thursdays which is today so that’s a fine adjustment a spine in line with my own wishes the delicious fishes made of clouds loudly announce it’s that time again I am repeating the same album which some see as sacrelige but it’s putting me in a good place remember when I used to and there are shortcuts but they don’t fit on my desktop who is it who made the problem out of the space was it my turn to chase my own tail can we fail ourselves without failing each other or the other way around we’ll never have to be switched into perfect harmony that’s a tuba a salat shuba which I will never eat and it’s a heat I’d throw back into the fire but not myself I’d hire a hew-and-crier that seems like a safe bet and you’ll never guess what’s next but it looks like bed and it smells like a book and I’m cooking up a specialty recipe with most of what I want in one easyreach spot but come to think it’s really not much and maybe this is touching on something more than space maybe this is a race I don’t have to run much farther

justwrite 12 may

before I sit down I will have to stand up and say a few words perhaps you’ve heard and perhaps your absurd tendencies depend on seizing each moment and shaking it tremendously there are leaves but they are here to stay for may and somewhat beyond there are solutions and resolutions we are undecided but others hide their hands instead of raising the stakes making mistakes with our mouths is the easiest way once you’ve heard what we say you will wonder why we didn’t stay that way or you may hunger for more what’s still in store cannot be bought you ought to listen you ought to pay attention and other prices it’s yours what’s more it cannot be taken once you’ve baken all the cookies and wrought all the iron the wrinkled sheets to the wind spin again around drowning in cotton sunlight we are brighter than gingham and more flavorful I have crossstitched those itches into a pillow swinging partners round and round and do-si-do-ing over the ground and through the river and grandmother’s house never saw such a hoopla there’s cabbage soup a-plenty and in the licorice patch we’ve snatched our own bites you might have asked first but it’s an unrehearsed symphony and it’s a million different buttons sown across the floor waiting for more than their fair chance to dance on borrowed strings the needle hurdling through cloth lost and found like the air in lungs too tired for sound I am tightwound and wordweary we are fearing emptiness and today three times I listened while pretending to talk I nodded my head I gawked at my own quiet I rioted against the dark in an earlysummer sun I am sitting on the concrete I am incomplete and undefeated I am compelling I am yelling and the color is yet to be determined will we buy a house will we feed a mouse and when will all the beards disappear with fearful consequences we cannot mention these lessons without learning we cannot make butter without ever churning and here I destroy the overeasy endrhythmrhyme

justwrite 11 may

there is hay there are horses and the divorced verbs herd around the nouns the scoundrels and their nannygoats the nibblers on nails and also on corn mourn the passing of another vegetable the wrong way which is the other direction and no correction can be made at this late stage we are fading in and out of complication I am raining across the nation and the acorns are born again there are scandalous murmurings but in the meantime my feet hurt there are worse shoes to wear but there’s no comparing with baring toes and the rosy glow of a package shining in the distance delivered against the resistance of time and space and also sense unmentionably pleased but no disease to say thanks got tanks full of that and a hat goes off and never comes back down on and other opposites the stylistic elements the tragedies sent through ignorant half-classes the sunshine parades and the faded unions without solutions where will I find more pillows where will the billows bellow out to and how loud will we shroud our faces in caramel and also in disgust will we trust our better selves our bestsellers with the failures of possibility I am making something and the stitches will be apparent or in this case the tape an escape from the whitewalled livingroom and where can I put my knees this is no desk this is a text to be written in Braille stale letters stalling out and falling off the keyboard where there used to be an a perhaps adapting next to a collapsed s and the rest of the line after half-d is fine but below there’s something not to be next to b and left of mostly m trimmed up and right there’s an o taking flight but there are fingers still clicking licking up the opportunities pleased with spelling and felling each stroke the ink tinkering off into the universe or under the skin and this is how to begin the synthesis the letters of literary bliss a message not to miss

justwrite 10 may

so then I ate some ice cream had a nice time on another dime I ought to have caught a train southbound insideout there were doubts about the arrival platform the parchment having never been fully unfurled I hurled chance to the wind let it dance and spin and thought why it must be so and how the garden grows without seeds and plenty of weeds exceed decency and arrive unannounced no bells no freedom ringing there a mountaintop there the boys and the girls and no one looks back everyone keeps track and tells neighbors and savors a piece of pie-shaped innocence wedged into misshapen saucers the unidentified the tried and forgotten the liars and the forgiven we have been here before I have scored these notches on absent walls on doorframes everyone is so tall but I am the longest ago I am the answer to my question that starts with why and the letters you and I have gotten the signals cross here comes the train all dressed in wide bunks and funky chickens dancing with their eggs mislaid all along the watchtower the bluebirds and the tshirts the self-quoting researcher for this is how the fallacy happens this is the challenge of self-editing the right to know right from left and to imagine the best possible outcome I am humming the song I don’t know the words yet but the lights and music and the truth set free like a caged bird urges forward all those prefaces let us begin at last let us make it past the little roman numerals with their pug noses smudged into the bottom of the page waging consistency and hoping for the start to capital numbers the kind we see on our fingers lingering into the story until they are forgotten and only at the end we defend our choices our turns the chosen adventures the tenure track positions glistening in the past and the stretchedout distraction up ahead where all the flowers have gone where the songs and the other places to be all run free and wild and the mildest clouds cushion your fall shroud your gall at having imagined such a scene and in between breaths you feel the truth in your fingers and it is not exactly how you’d thought it would taste

justwrite 9 may

there are some theories and fir trees but the surprise that’s inside is too transparent to hide from the sizable fortune waiting inside the cookie the potatoes spilling out where the doubtful dough was indisposed to go we rose to show and to tell but the other flowers went first I have rehearsed these lines but never find the time to say them and there’s no more need to weigh them they’ve already been saved under the unlikely heading the letting-go dinosaur alarm clock ticking and talking to itself waiting for the end and depending on the weather it could be now or forever away there’s a scientific study in the wings but no one’s listening anyway just flying away into the vacation islands trying to fry a thousand bananaboats out of the water with hotter than averages sunglares the glasses classless and matching the video a riddle though of whether it’s better to have or to catch to latch the door to score on double words or to have heard those games for the last time it’s a crime no one’s committing but I can’t help but admitting a certain fascination without a thought for destination although it’s a long way on the bus it’s a long fuss with four-tenths of an hour indisposed to closure I have a shoulder and also another I have no brothers but I have arms and there are albums clamoring for attention but the fifth dimension has got the wrong cover to start with to heart with all these admonishments the self-inflicted kind and I had in mind to stop apologizing but anthologizing in any other way putting brackets and book covers and blankets without end the hems unreachable the stories unteachable I cannot flash those cards it’s too hard to acknowledge the multiple foci and so I pretend to defend a different thesis this is easier to point out and slower to resolve I cannot solve a problem that is unknown and has only variables there is nothing given to begin with and we all know there must be at least two columns for any theorems or axioms to flex their technicalities and say yes please you may because I say so

justwrite 8 may

what was started is finished and the diminishing returns earn creepy interest in the darkening window gleams of scenes from misconstructed psychology lead to thinking in drinking out thoughts bought cheaply the steep prices the wages of sin the bringing up and in and around the block the clock locks each door and there are more down the hall calling for revenge or maybe for groceries we are all needing and the positive the qualities the freezing rain changing from sun to clouds the hardly allowed answers I am no dancer but I can sing in the dark I have no car but there is nowhere I cannot park I am tired of being awake at this time and I am looking forward to waking again I am looking at the cards being played and wondering which are in my own hand we demand answers we take chances we lean in and give compliments but it’s too intense to wonder where the flowers are given if the senses are driven by elementary proximity the trailer style in lunchbox-mild remembrance taking a chance and giving it back an attack of nerves and undeserved optimism also the opposite glass empty again more than half and the draft and the laughlines fading in we find it’s a bit of a heave and I laugh into my sleeve my eyes surprised by the pleasure of entertainment no face meant to share just comparing apples to sunflowers and other seeds there are weeds and smells and fell swoops turning hoops and running loops around consideration there is too much thinking too much concentration and black eyes surprise shades fade into the sunshine cloudline there is a bridge and a bus and a track and a train and the main thing to remember is that the sender cannot be returned to cannot be earned through contrite acts or heart attacks pre-planned in mansions in the exploding sky only prairies rare as quiet and soft as the sky in retrospect what I’d hoped to expect

justwrite 7 may

so I’ve started a new book and from the look this hook has a line and sinker but I’m not sure how far I’m caught I ought to be reading more evening the score between shelf and self I have the time and endless dimes my eyes surprised by the darkening living room the space between the sun and the window lost between clouds to look at the afternoon sun and to say that it will rain to explain the tradition of time and to keep in mind the past I am lasting beyond the next film and the pictures I take bake in the dark cabinets and wait to be developed I am wondering what to cook I am booking a flight tonight and the destination is unclear I fear mediocrity and perhaps comfort of an inescapable sort and yet and before and again and after the fallingasleep wonderment I have sent another set of letters in splattered consternation I don’t care if I care but in the meantime maybe I’d like to see it differently I’d like other parties and partiers to mend unjumped fences the good neighbors theory frostily posed also birches and woods lovely dark and deeper than miles where these are kilometers and no one knows the difference between degrees we freeze our knees in place splaced through poses we imagine to relax we tax our limbs swimming into stillness and yet our minds too kind to inherit thoughts we cannot adopt in the longterm worm backward into supposition this is what a creative thought process will offer you there is jealousy and seedlings of nonsense where recompense is never bought but half paid-for and what’s more the door never quite closes always those supposes grow but the fruit sour or bitter no matter splatters across a dry smile the tiles flooring another kitchen baking confusion into remission ready for certainty and unable to accept it denying sense and the known and wishing for the impossibly constructed plot devices that fit nicely into texts but rarely in the living of what comes next

justwrite 6 may

I am ready to be saved the tupperwhere uncertainty the clarity that comes before the glass is scratched half full there’s the line and here’s the twine the tie that binds as it rolls down laughing halves in opposition the glistening rejoinder the remainder of a joke but you’ve got to buy a ticket you’ve got to lick that stamp damp enough to bluff each listener there’s a mail system there’s a trailhead and it’s thinking about breaking offstream and dreaming its own route into the mountains which is unlikely as the heights freeze its feet into place as the laces are tied too tightly and the brightly colored marbles are too distracting too wholly taxing with the percentages unmeasurably high the sky and other ideas keep the kites up but the sudden realizations of space and other nations keep my eyes open to hope the soapy drama bubbling up I am cupping my elbows in predisposed afterdinner call-in shows as all the children are told what for and where to go and how to show their appreciation the fascination with kicking a ball quite lost on the taller of us who can reach clouds if we’re not too loud there are no fences no borders the crossing easier than flossing and more consistent we are wind-resistant and easily entertained I have named each tree for an apple I have dappled each gray pony and the only one who comes when I call is a cannonball ready for distance but not battle hurtling through the field dandelionwild and smiling with open eyes there and gone and never back attacking the unknown with surprising vigor who would eat a sugar cube instead of something beautiful the taste on your tongue lasts only as long as the song in your head but the red of the poppies and the yellow fields adopting the sun in their faces are worth each race and its running

justwrite 5 de mayo

I wrote the script then ripped it up there is too much drama in the play there is a stay to the execution there is a dissolving solution under my tongue the wondering whatever whyfor how-to buggy flu brainwave saves itself again and I am napping trapped in carbohydrates and all the dreams become clear we are steered through blue satin and what’s happening is the future as is often the case but this one erases several now-imagined steps we’ve leapt forward but even as I wake I hope mistakes were made in the creation of this shade this shadow of inauthentic rhetoric notwithstanding and therefore without sitting is the only option up for adoption from this or any nation I am imagining again I am thinking in the wrong key it is not c and the natural is unknown I am not at home I am phoning nowhere but downstairs and the cares in the world have hurled themselves at the window and I have opened it I am hoping for resolution but it’s not even the third act and the matters of fact have yet to all be laid before us the forest grows before the trees and even the leaves are somewhat lacking in tracking down the sound of falling down who can hear and with what fear do we imagine tragedies are there pleasing conjugations available in such a situation are the verbs all undoable is the weather quite run-throughable or when I get home soaking wet will there be an answer and a dry set of comments to follow up the shot heard ‘round the room the zooming coffee cup ready to be emptied into the morning and the cream stands alone replaced by milk and its ilk are ready for the day to be determined

justwrite may the 4th be with you

there were some thoughts I held in hand I demanded their land and their goods their bads they had nothing to offer me from their coffers free and easy with their words though and the snow fell on deceit defeating itself in the blank white space I am erasing the chase the on the about the troutstream the fishing beams of light out of my eyes and rolling over in surprise in the middle of the night and thinking about breathing listening closely to warmth and imaginary interpretations the state of the nation uniting and diving with inhales and failsafe alarm clocks rocked solid and sleepily into dreams we mean to say I cannot play with fire for my hands are made of straw and my breath my words exhaled never fail to stir challenges in my ears or in the fears of a listener gentle and unhurried waiting for the sentence the story without pretense the truth set free a caged bird and the song goes along sounding wrong but there are no other lines to say and the rhymes may be ragged and the tempo dragging but can I think this any other way can I mean what I say and can I do the best to test the rest of the syllables against my lips I am tripping again and waiting for a smile to bloom but it’s dark and the smoking outside the door floors itself under the crack and collects at the back of my throat I wrote a story and it was true I handed it straight to the reader but the critics wouldn’t read it the listeners turned away and shook their eyebrows for shame we name ourselves we have health and we have hurried interpretations because of this and without that and I will be lonely so as not to be lonely I am only the interpreter I am the writer the creator of collections the pointer of directions I am reading a map that collapses along fault lines neither yours nor mine but the twine binding is too raw and the paper tears along a ragged river

post 3 may

justwrite 3 may

what happens next is anyone’s best kept guess you can read this clearly if you have the eyes willing to surprise the mind in time we are hearing the fearing weather come out of the distance the stress resistance isn’t washed away we play the same songs over and again and imagine our friends giving advice which is nice but fairly useless we have gooseless holidays and no ham can stay on that plate no wait will be rewarded no memories to be hoarded but shared incomparable the parables with the endings we pretend to believe we are philosophers of unknown orders and we always forget dessert packing bubbles into water in hotter seasons we are freezing our elbows with the nudging no one budging into declaration what is in your mind in your carryon will the luggage budge and is it too heavy to carry along I am stronger than disaster but the faster it passes the better wetter in the rain and dryer on the hotwater pipes ripe for interpretation there are stations on opposite sides of the city the river the state of the nation the fascination with musical keys and mispronounciation misspellation and the creation of originality you’re wrong you’re not right you’ve got a bite but impossible to pull in to reel the real deal out of the sky prying surprise from behind the eyes of a skeptic a thinker hans brinker and the silver skates replacing some other image that might have happened there are pots and pans and plants and scams but still I have the wrong shoes I could use the right jeans and the investigated scenes reveal some fear some dancing alone in the midafternoon we are true to ourselves we are sincere we are all interested we are self- and other-dissected each night and wake up relieved to find the minimum number of pieces left out remaining we are chaining the window to the wall and keeping a look out and a book and a cook and a stork to land on the pole and swallow whole the scene in a magically realistic twist

justwrite 2 may

waiting for the rain to change spain to a closer plane a plain remaining out of the exchange rate fated to run away with the bulls the bills unfulfilled unpaid made in the lowgrade lemonade shade a fever transfigured by a trigger finger misplaced disgraced by a dirty face in the mirror the window no clearer for the sunshine it’s just mine but yours too a secondhand zoo without fences no expenses for the walletweary traveler you’re sure you had a credit card and another hardfought battle bought like cattle and it’s not slaughter that you’re after but fastflying disaster lingering bigger than lightning but lasting like blasted memory cannonfeeding a firey forgiveness not quite bright enough to see the other side for arriving in time to put out doubt let us return to cobblestone we roam alone with pocketed hands grandly entertaining various notions I have no quotient to determine the kind of division that will result but if the tumult of this travel is a clue of how it unravels I will turn my pen upside down and imagine an eraser there is no chaser for this face-saving gesture no measure for this breeze-breaking taking hold I will have a hardscrabble board to to spell out the plan scoring all the right letters the doubles the troubles brewing in French depressing may I have your attention please and the tongue squeeze that turns into obererjno and I am paying attention I am a bit behind the dish the rest of the rack packed up and twice swallowed and the forest is done the bike race run and the winners have shivered into a warming season our reasons are uncertain but you won’t hut your head and the bread line waits not for you a callback come true through translation the information for more than free but well worth its weight in phone line in this wireless time a day no pigs would dine on coldweather pineapple experiments

justwrite 1 may

tired fired all the cylinders filled with the will to create but at this late date meaning hour the power has gone out the balloon swoons and the moon also rises

dandelion crown on hatchback antennae

vareneky-eating man leaning out third-story window with balanced plate

pre-rain dancing fieldalone black ponyface

wedding couple oldhouse tumblebed

strawberries to be// finey

yearslong priest robes wallfacing hilltop oldchurch

green shoes to match three musketeers church

windowledge pillow air