justwrite 28 september

somedays creating is better than waiting I have three fishes drawn I am calling for more colors but the rain comes down we cannot frown quietly but the nose keeps running away with the last word the herd the storm the normal ideas don’t apply and the cry goes out across the town the land the sound the sand the fury hurries through the shortcuts but I can’t catch up the beans won’t boil and the spoiling of the bread instead of the tomato says something about what we’re made o’ we’re seeking vitamin c and we take some doses we give ourselves neuroses and we congratulate diagnoses of the successful sort the internet can’t get enough of these symptoms we are the doctors and we are impatient patients give us answers and starve the listeners the glistening hope a rope pulled too fast to grab onto and up into the air twirling about to perform perhaps or maybe to collapse in a circuslike spike of energy the emotion we’re devoted to seeking keeping us on the edge of our soles our feet peeking around the next corner through the dirt and over the clouds the unexplored just stored up waiting for us the jeans I bought the holes all wrought with heels but the steal of a price and the waist just right so much for that button so much for the rest I cannot write and pass such tests at the same time I’m feeling fine except the sneezing’s without reason and I cannot abide such treason from my own body I’m not asking for much just total support at every minute and obedience through and deliverance from a hundred actions per second the wrecks so infrequent but so disappointing give me everything I say to my nose and my ears but how can they hear my sighs as I reach for some relief wondering where in the dark I’ve parked such a remedy stifling meditation the aggravation of losing control falling into the fold and unable to lead the charge away the successful straying back toward a pillow a weeping willow walkway along toward the road a river or a lake exploding from imagined maps into reality and suddenly it’s a circle the shortcut isn’t long and I’ve come to where I started having departed into pieces