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