justwrite 25 july

when the sky comes up it’s hard to tell which fell was it we or the sea or some other combination of matter doesn’t matter anti-chatter is the next chapter just a bit of quiet after a riot of static attacking panicked nerves unhinged by binging on pinch-hitting cue-balls calling all the wrong shots into the right corners we were mourners before the ship even sank there’s a tank full of bankable bills but still not enough to keep us going flowing over the river and through the green-eyed disgust with self-trust and rusting ambitions in repose I am supposing that I can listen to music but the truth is it turns my words upside in and outside down it’s a clown’s paradise but it’s nice to be able to see where the path leads sometimes but okay fine I’ll pay and okay tomorrow comes after today and there’s no use rushing blushing into line ahead of time and looking down at the ground and counting shoes and also laces carrying decimal places and making it straight to the races winning again gathering all the bets that leapt from wallets to fingers to deposits and houses and other substantial trappings the von the singers that’s a different movie and I need to turn off this song and that looks like success but what’s next what’s the text designed to say to refine the way we look at mirrors and also ourselves will the elves have returned the hot water to where it otter be will we please be able to say thank you and what rank you have achieved by this point will be carried with you imprinted on your kitchen sink and the tinkers will laugh graphing all the progress you’ve made with copper pipes and aluminum pans scandalizing the neighbors and flavoring opinions into a strawberry sense the tension doesn’t need to build but still my hands are filled and overflowing in tiny streams the sand it seem is not being crushed much and the rougher realization is that my own fascination with anxiety leads certainly not to piety more highinthesky-ity twinkletoes performances even in the dark a wakeup morning where dark thoughts linger and the clouds compound the sentiment we meant to tell the secrets we want to come clean but between rocks and clocks and all those hard places those men beneath the steps in the woods should be finding a better place where no one can see them but who’s looking and I guess that’s the question when you have a lesson you think others should learn sometimes it’s the one you should teach yourself and if that reaches health in one fair swoop it’s not a fowl coop or a fell stoop you should be looking for but a view that goes on and on