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