justwrite 29 june

who’s to be dancing on the head instead of a foot paired up balled up like socks through the goal line over the river and through the hoop the book keeps turning the pages keep burning through the story but no one can keep reading no one’s heading the calling stalling out the doubts and waiting until the yeast works out its frenzy rising in the kitchen when no one’s listening I am waiting to play the waiting game but the shame is my own there’s no home like the place you are right now there’s no sacred cow and the milk isn’t so great for your sleep patterns which is what matters I have cancelled another appointment and the fly in the ointment keeps buzzing with suggestions he is teaching lessons to a different teacher this one this preacher keeps telling tales out of school all about fools and their troubles and money made of honey and soon parted from a golden tongue if we strung along our wishes would they reach each others’ sides we can hide and we can listen or we can pretend to jump the hurdles there’s no sense at the end of the race and we’ll just go our separate ways but everyone gets a ribbon everyone’s name will be read aloud everyone’s had enough of being recognized and the surprise comes when walking off stage means fading into the haze of sideways daze there are things I’d like to say there is smarter I’d like to be but where and hair and feet and the meeting of the minds loosely defined as park bench waiting stating a variety of claims and shaving off the results a close finish a delicious minute of consideration the contemplation roasting so many vegetables before the harvest the eggs not yet in the basket but a task it’s impossible to be assigned is already mine and perhaps yours what’s in store is what’s in the field and the yield is not yet determined the worms are still at home the loam the clay the straw the way the gold turns the air to summer are the strands of melody cloying slightly the scent of cloves radically refusing to be ground