justwrite 11 september

wake up loved and go to sleep alone you are what you own but this is only space a chase through time with the energy to depend internally the organs playing some sweet song the chords along the way pulling forward onward and tangling we wrangle our hearts through so many rodeos the clowns around the corner laughing into their bright red shoes their noses they choose for confidence we are meant to be the destroyers of the past and the trash is not collected how to make the bed how to get led and then lead how to fail and also to succeed in the right deeds too speedy for the trees to overhear but over here there is more space as previously mentioned there are additional dimensions we can’t disregard it’s too hard to pretend those things never happened it’s much easier to imagine that we’re suddenly adapting but to go on like that is to chat with a face you’ve never seen nor held between outstretched hopes we cope with our tires as the bus drives on there are bumps in the road they are literal the figurative ones appear late in the night while hair dries and unpacking is ignored let’s store up the questions for someone else’s lessons we cannot learn right now we cannot tell cows to give honey there is no money to buy that kind of bread and instead a shower instead an hour of soup-making the leave-taking too complete to eat even crackers tired of the fired self-implosion sitting on the sidelines throwing peanuts into the air and wondering as they fall calling all the alabaster lobster tails pale in comparison with these jettisoned jewelry pieces the boxes rocky and the mountains full of oysters since the flood since the past month since the changes and the ranges are dropping off into the foothills it’s still ill in the sideways view but the truth is much more useful the path is much more fruitful to check the mirror to imagine a clearer view to wear the same glasses to sign different passes and to consider the tickets before buying but to keep off the sighing pushing it away for a slightly brighter daytime vantage point we amount to much we touch the ground and we leap we are the frogs of our own design aligning the sun with our stance and dancing with just-mailed dresses testing the tresses for climbing then realizing we are the ones with the hair and we are the ones who will climb where we is me and the singular is truer though the plural sounds stronger we are all the upgoers we are the boatrowers gently down the stream and sometimes up and sometimes on the bank we give thanks and we know the stream flows on