Saturday, October 30, 2010

justwrite 30 october

shuffling into a random mix I pick and choose I can’t get rid it’s the truth the usefulness of that connection leads me still in the direction of good sounds even if the feel’s too real to keep up with it’s a squaredance that romances itself out of style those checker-shirted hurts pressing deep into relief and as we all remember I cannot type while listening to music with words especially this one but it’s the first time I’ve heard these rhymes and I don’t need a tuxedo to walk that through the park it’s too dark in the sunlight with those high brights shining right in my face erasing the chase and replacing the pictures with glittering sparkles harkening back to a different kind of track star around the world and having hurled a tennis ball into the air I can’t quite square where it’ll land I’ve got to hand it to me and pass it back around the table if you’re able to interpret you’re not the only one but it’s too much fun to tell out loud let’s shroud at least something in mystery it’s a history I carry in my back pocket but in two days there’s a novel way of looking at things with new names cinnamon games and other such spices it’s nice isn’t it I’d vote for her for president if only she existed there’s little I’ve resisted in this monologue little left clogging up the epliglottis or some other kind of name coughing up frames and filling up columns reporting on scoops and heaping on the leapyear blames we’ve got electronic ideas and wireless batteries the calamitites in the charging leaves us larger than necessity the stress we see on pay-tv makes me wonder why anyone has channels has panel discussions making a fuss and busting any sort of move there’s no groove like the present there’s no bird like the pheasant but as for me it’s a black and white name on a textbook page even if there’s a picture we’re none the richer for the idea I wouldn’t eat it I rarely meet it meat it and that’s the truth I’m thinking of having no headache and that’s the way to break it down just choose the crown you want to wear is it all about me is it the tree across the yard which deserves to stand taller and which holler otter be responded to who’s calling and when I answer which chance dances through my synapses and flashes kinetic direct to my lips fingers no lingering just creating baiting each trap with collapsing faces kissing and devouring each character this is what we do this is how we know and I’m still going still on my way out just wanted to mention this other dimension I had a dream about the pieces of the day straying into the surreal feeling like it might have happened that way and hoping you’re enjoying your stay in that world that doesn’t touch just a character in a movie and the same hair but over there it turns true and the view in my mind when I wake up is an x in the sky pressed against the rightnow window marking the spot the files the masking tape escape and the Sunday night television we remember in review in perfect revision nothing would be changed or since then rearranged everything got solved and the agents flipped their lids to dig a little deeper than the bosses wanted haunted by missing sisters and vague tonguetwister clues and it’s true we could use some of those right about now

justwrite 29 october

shuffling details into obedience the wind spins leaves into curlicue piles pages turned and returned the same story in glorious relief waiting for the grief to pass the plane won’t crash the dogs won’t all be fed but that’s better left unsaid all the starfish children wandering unbidden in sunheld arms alarmed at the chance of being set down we frown in response and shake our heads not for you the ground the floor and more to the point is that tribal tradition that superstition of keeping a baby’s feet from the earth for a year or at least its first some period of time and once they find that all is fine from that marker they park a ceremony right in the middle of everything and drop a rutabaga or some other soul-saver on the chosen mark so the waiting devils wrongly snatch the vegetable this being done the chosen one the child who will live and thrive can stay alive on grounded feet even while growing up with believes high in the proud clouds of traditional mystery

Friday, October 29, 2010

justwrite 28 october

every time I turn the corner smile and good evening having left my lips the whitefrosted door opens and I am stepping into a cardboard box my hand reaches out for the expected cellophane protecting what must be honeynut cheerios deep down reaching and I don’t know which came first if I ever turned this corner with an open cereal box in hand and set that trigger was it just the smell that send me in search of the cardboard wholesomeness of honeynut cheerios and how much time is eaten up by food the creating the preparing the consuming the cleaningup after and the shopping the recipe looking the considering the craving could we be saving some of this for something else like aerobics or do we go to aerobics because of how much time we’ve already spent on food there are causes and there are effects but if one neglected to shuffle the expected cards into the most elementary of orders a series of disorders would no doubt be in evidence we are searchers for reasons and avoiders of blame we easily claim escape when possible and even when implausible we suggest some sideways tales to avail ourselves of blameless sleep those soft white sheep keep jumping while we’re lumping that weight hefting it even toward some other season or unfortunate being in the way we can’t play ourselves in every scene and say what we mean as naturally as we’d like but we easily mic up others and hand them scripts where they bite their lips and hem and haw and apologize for all they’ve done to us and make a fuss about how to fix it and hope we can forgive it while we lean back in the director’s chair and play it cool suggesting another take or two to fix a mistake or two we thought we heard absurdly believing this exercise relieves us of the need to look within keeping the mirror clear over there while we stare down the real causes those dependent clauses without which we could be our own sentences but still we fear to carry them out ourselves salvaging space before punctuation

justwrite 27 october

not every minute has all of me in it but the ones that clamor into focus work their hocus pocus through sensory detail and neverfail diction the contributions of figurative language strangling itself hyperbolically trawling the sea of bullet points anointing the right ones with gunpowder and sending them toward the firing range a passing strange first example easily trampled over was Monday afternoon at the newest secondhand shop on sobornosti street meeting a red sweater I thought I’d buy trying it on in a small curtained stall and after all I didn’t buy it but spit it back when I found grayblack stropes and a needingironed blouse if I don’t mind calling it that but to put the cat back in the bag I was looking in the mirror I was seeing red and instead of my thoughts another phone rang and another woman said again yes I’m on my way home now and yes I will remember okay just one to three minutes of check-in as the workwork stops and the homework begins and even as I decide it fits another all the bobbypin in my hair is suffering from the sweater’s path but still the math is adding up unflattering numbers either I am happy to have zero calls and be free or no one cares enough is aware enough to share enough of my time to wonder if I’m doing fine at the minute but within nine minutes as I find the gray and black stripes fit much better than the toobright sweater I’m composing a letter to the self who asked and I’m back on track in the cool clean quiet of an afternoon in my own space and more of the same ahead

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

justwrite 26 october

when I woke up there was no time it was dark there were too many curtains to open too many I couldn’t reach and the gray stayed I laid facedown and when I woke again the butter had melted on the radiator in the kitchen twitching out of that pose that facedown doze my yoga composed of sideways stretches catching that wave and saving that grace amazing lazing in the widelong mornings we are born into different days in new ways every time an easy dime dropped used to turn into a call to the other side but crying out we awaken doubts and put the sheep to sleep counting our numbers and waiting the next turn hurrying through courage and grabbing the remote the next easy out troutstreams away the salmon can’t stay in one place and neither will that rainbow as the pain goes the time shows itself makes its wealth heard spends it all in one place chases the heat of earlyhour morning dry throat and scratchy sheets meeting a mattress pressed into lethargy it is too early to be too late to see too wide open we are hoping again and then we have dinner then we begin to take note we have remote chances which do not all mean channels there’s a way to handle this and a way toward scandalous rejoinders rejoicing in the season coming up with reasons for the sudden summer after endless slumber we’ve been eating breakfasts on the porch we’ve torched our good looks and our chemistry books but we are careful with the history with the mysteries of literature with the sure thing that we can’t quite bet on the whirring fan and the tickets to be bought we have caught up with our wandering but onward with the wondering search and find and plant that line somewhere in the sand either in front and dare to cross or behind with crumbs stealthy-tossed in the escape a caper served on a salad or in the middle of some ballads just like homophones’ll get you the truth brewed up fresh again with lemon or come again regards hardening gardening with new boots in cahoots with an owl and wisebacked scowl behind each mirror listening for clearer instructions further introductions to the next step the easykept easylost constrictors boa or otherwise because if it’s just a mess of memories then forgiveness please and a new map but we’ll cap this one off and toss it to the lost and found call the pound and charge by the kilo

Monday, October 25, 2010

justwrite 25 october

again with the explosions and always in the sky and while you’re wondering if I’m plundering the scenery or dabbling deeper in metaphor than’s called for in this situation I’ll hand over information that it’s over to the right there’s a building that’s hiding all these riding-high charges enlarged by sparks most often in the dark why just the other day straight across the way I saw a flare wide and high from the building to the sky a handheld torch flailing about slightly but clearly burning brightly and once it dipped out of view I decided truly it couldn’t be that crucial well the fact is I forgot but some time later I stopped quite suddenly and found the sky darker where the flare had been the moon was rising inflated full and fine climbing brick by brick from a flame on a stick and high into the night a hot-air delight in the cool fall presence hesitant between scenes I imagined the convenience of these two lights overlapping and I assigned the fine twine of coincidence to pulling them together but in this or any other weather there’s something to remember and something to forget were we to count all of the cards were we to whine a bit too loud there’s nothing to predict no fate on this plate that we haven’t served ourselves we toast our healths then go out to protect them too easy to reject them that laugh like they know but they reap what they sow and so do we and so we see ourselves wealthy and wise in nearer mirrors but clean them up clearer for the long view and it’s easily true that we’re wandering through a bramble patch that’ll soon burn off or maybe instead it’s a cliff up ahead that we’re skipping toward unknowing and unwarned but what can you do in the meantime just worry fine just jump higher just light the fire for a brighter view and to scare off truth and all the rest there’s a pass to test there’s a standard to manage but when you check the rubric you’ll see that the imagery is falling off dipping into philosophy can plainly be its own disaster falling fast and faster the classroom can’t compete with the street and the feet make their way quicker than coaches write the play we can only use our mouths and our hands and when the commands come again the gun fires the wrong song here I meant colors and details the wildwest verbs and the absurd herds of abstract nouns crowding around I am clowning and down the appletree lane there are country crocks of frothy milk again skipping high into the cloudless sky and waiting

justwrite 24 october

today the light kept cutting all the right angles and some left wrong too calling through neighborhoods like longdelayed constructions the rings of bricks licking tired lips and waiting for the aging patient for the roof the truth set free on a gravel road each carrying a load of windy notes the promissory quotes and reminiscent returns burning a hole in the standstill sidewalk talking out its hat and catching all the wedding cars off-guard the ribbons and the tulle with flowers charged by the hour all lined up in an artistic sense fenced in by expectations of a certain shutterwise filter off kilter in the corners but strong enough to test the rest against these circumstances leave something to be desired leave professionals to be fired shoring up more work for amateurs worrying less and enjoying more walking four blocks past necessity and turning right and right and right again back to begin with the earfulls of music and the view that anything worth doing is facing extinction on a lazyday diet getting up to try it to keep together desire and the means keeping the matches dry because you and I both known this show’s running out of episodes it’s easy to explode when your head’s full of sparks and you’re wandering through tinder wondering how to begin and if to sink or to swim would be more poetic more on point but don’t get disjointed there’s another tomorrow and soon someone will run

justwrite 23 october

wedged on a ledge the window hindering the view and the truth too loose to be set free already we have hedged our bets but what comes next is unexpected might not have been elected with the ballot box talking might again be balking at those other states of grace chasing the air and making the wind just sinking to swim again and again stranding reality in a caverny expanse entranced by the moonlight spilling right into the kitchen fill and fine filtered in unheated greetings each unheeded meeting between my mind and the unwinding sense of reality creates this duality there’s an expectation that I’ll unite these nations these systems the circulatory the nervous digesting all those signals and bringing me up out of bodybag slump a lazy lump giving away energy for free but you see the other side is just melting in the swelter of self-defeat you can’t beat yourself so you just can’t win can’t trim that turkey without any lace no cranberry sauce embossing the tablecloth after all the guests have scattered like crumbs numbly humming in the walkaway hallway where have all the answers gone just get up and go do it just run toward running and not away just stay on one of those tracks collapsing though it may be it’s easy storage and the glory of self-discovery plus the details of the setting are more than worth betting those extra seconds of sleep against I’ve advanced the notion and I’m waiting for the answer dancing in the daybreak quite a mistake to say it’d be easy but I can’t freeze me out of my own scene without meaning to try harder and doing it too

Thursday, October 21, 2010

justwrite 21 october

slicing down a seldomwalked sidestreet I meet the sun suddenly coming up between buildings capturing a yellowblushing birch perched on the side of a muddy walk talking nonchalantly to itself as if it hadn’t seen its health improved upon so ignited so brightly when the right angle lit itself drank its wealthy draught crafted out of shine but this is well and fine but who can live in such a world who can hurl out description of every depiction of life that develops we play the cello in the corner for each mourner for each celebrant we’re hesitant but delighted and we thrown confetti the descriptive words the colorful verbs and all kinds of adjectives a grab-bag full and the wool over everyone’s eyes disguising the known as the mysterious the realistically delirious cooking up the unknown with ingredients expediently heading straight downstream meaning what they say and staying on the right path the traffic can’t get you if you spit through the fence and if you mention the right code the explosions will stay away the dog will have his day and not your own your phone will ring with unusual news the kind you can use truly and now I’m off that track where I thought I’d hang my hat today but stay a moment there are more components in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in hamlet’s geometry the geography of the mind defining itself in intricate maneuvers suturing together facts then spinning cadillacs out of spiders’ webs and pillowcases we are facing tomorrow each on our own but we need the lights out for now to think about how

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

justwrite 20 october

I am thinking about running I am trying to become a doer of this deed and the need is great but the options are varied that weight I’ve carried inside and out and the doubts no one is coming up from behind no one is pushing or pulling there are no strings attached no catches collapsing we are trapping our own beliefs yes you can I can not I am not flexible I am not that technically skilled where there’s a will there’s a wick and you can burn you can trick yourself into damp air and heavy wind but there’s somewhere to begin look at those sneakers pick up that pen there’s a weekend and another but there’s no time like biking out of the garage a new Saturday with watchers proud and a sandwich waiting later barbeque chips and a trip to the somewhere else a flea market a park ready for the rest of the day there’s just the right dessert and how do you celebrate what do you contemplate when you’re getting ready to breathe steady do you look down at a gut or into a mirror imagining clearer views from the sideways truth get up and get up and in the early afternoon everything seems possible but when it’s still dark and then when it’s dark again it’s much such easier to park with a cushion and exercise the inside hiding from the list and twisting off those simple chores scoring easier endeavors and leaving the rest for some other test-taker and when you live alone and when you’re in that zone you can only do that business by yourself you can only drink to someone else’s health if you have your own it’s a truth we all subscribe to no one can like to you but yourself and if you believe that here’s an old hat so that you can be invisible you can live indivisible but that’s not the way it goes each day goes to show that the night will still come and little pieces and parts get drafted drifting elsewise surprising the neighbors and your own restless dreams teeming with plans and scans scandals you can handle with your eyes closed but can’t stomach in the light or the other way around the ground between you and those dreamy shores is teeming more and more with scores to be settled and courage to be mettled measured meted out through a filter of doubts it’s something like empowerment but here all that’s meant is running time forward and out

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

justwrite 19 october

teach me how to read my own name in the right voice and I will tell you that I can do this myself I can have the health and eat it too I can wear both shoes on the same foot and put that one forward if you’ve been forewarned it was too early there’s no worry and no stress passing each test down the row and up the column there are problems for the solving but the brakes are all broken and we’re stoking up a different campfire a handysized dampener the stir in the coffee the wrinkles in the toffee and I cannot make that sort of candy with these ingredients there are all the right signs but in the meantime we can only see the farther back that other track I jumped all lumped back with pictures taken flaking off the fried drive not surviving any of those turns earning those burns we churn our own butter we thank our own mothers for standing by waiting and taking notes that no one else will read we are ready to succeed but we don’t heed enough of the right pointers we’re easily distorted we earlier purported to know much more if not all then the call has got to be shuffled forward we’re awarded for the races we’ve run but the gun still hasn’t been fired the tires are still under the car the wire wasn’t pulled tight enough there’s no connection there’s just misdirection and we can’t correct for those angles we can’t try to bang those handles with our own messy fingers my thoughts are lingering in that greener direction tonight but there’s a light that’s just a candle and it isn’t the sun and I’ve strung all that laundry out but it just won’t dry and if I turn the heat up it’s likely just to fry I am waiting and I am watching for the sun to boil for the coils of the heater to call back the comfort we are looking through history and thumbing the pages we pretend to be sages or vaguely courageous but that’s only through the minute when the next hour finds you in it you’ll see you’re not moving you’re stuck in a groove in the sympathetic mirror poor Daniel Johnston poor you poor truth and the chords rhyme just right with those bright ideas we cannot tie all the shoes with bows and sometimes the knots won’t go won’t stay in place and for those we need bare feet we meet the answers coming up some other alleys the boulevards the hardly seen streets we are waiting but we are moving and the space between counts its lucky stars making constellations out of consternation and grateful for the stolen comfort resting in the restlessness confessing all that cannot be

Monday, October 18, 2010

justwrite 18 october

guess who’s coming to win an academy award not this one not any humdrum daily grinder that’s a sandwich a submarine an underwater loaf with toppings hopping topside we’ve got to ride this one out we’ve got to doubt our other callings and stop answering those area codes just explode your way through the sauce a sloshed recipe keeping it together and boiling over the cover gets thrown and the relief is homegrown a pitcher and a catcher no matter how mad the hatter the flavor of batter I am penniless on this stress test I can’t pay off the weight it’d take to bake a cake of those ingredients an expedient trial might be the right way out but there’s a shout twisting up from inside easy enough to vaguely hide today but some ways there’s no play to quiet it down when the settling around the block keeps up the talk but I’m standing in the shower and wondering aloud I have got to keep that down no one needs to hear the neighbors needn’t fear that sort of a deal it’s a real steal but I can’t give it back it’s a laughtrack for some other show but for now it’s hard to go steady without a bit of that backlash every once in a while a trial with lots of evidence coming up begging to be presented and sometimes just unrelenting coming over and through item one item two or whatever it’s called the state’s evidence but the guilt is evident spread all over and rolling like a sea a freezing salt lake the great the bake the wakeup wondering and the can’t sleep blundering over the wrong memories and mistangled images things I never saw but can’t stomach anyway there’s a ferry over there ready for to load but it’s hard to know what to take it’s hard to rake up all the leaves in one pile and even if it’s a mile high when you jump in wonder why you thought you could keep it all together just one close look just one deep breath and your sucking down leaves grieving in a choking sound but there’s a town going on around and that’s the scenery that’s meaningful now that’s the cow to milk that’s the rightfeel silk keep it in the realistic the imagistic but what you can touch what Williams made out of that rain is plainer than the drops I see falling and all that calling needs to be something higher not sticking my hand into the fire to see what I can salvage for now just walk away and talk and say and think and if I was someone else I’d pray and if I was somewhere else I’d stay home and if and if but this is all there is

Sunday, October 17, 2010

justwrite 17 october

retyping overhyping it’s the best the rest the test can’t pass the best can’t laugh in any clearer mirror I have got to say there must be a way to play off those cards to handle hard-to-answer questions with easygoing lessons down the other street there’s a neat set of boots with my name on them another strong cup of tea and these will surely belong to me I’ve got to pay those dollars and iron those collars thinking about not thinking about anything this is meditation in writing and when I close my eyes I see the space erasing itself filling its healthy breaths with color remember when I asked you to close your eyes and tell me what you see remember when there was only we and it’s not that good for anyone to do this but remember and keep bliss tucked in another pocket a locket that’s not locked a clock that won’t turn back but gives you a sense of some other track you’ve hopped we’ve stopped there are rainbows and clouds but today mostly puddles of light on the cross-courtyard building the flickering ripples as the serials hit commercials and the channels get changed the kitchen windows flickering as the plates get rearranged first you need and then tea and while we are talking about this there’s a bit of fish left over from lunch and some other flavors waiting for you there’s a library down the elsewhere and I can’t compare the number of words I’ve heard today with the number of minutes I’ve been awake there’s no discussion there’s leading to nothing from something and if I had a hammerhead shark I’m not sure where I’d keep if but if I picked up the kitten in the hallway I think it’d go no small way toward keeping me entertained and warm there’s no norm unbreakable and that soft mewing’s unmistakable really it’s going to be snowing on that linoleum and at least I have some heat although what it’d like to eat and if it has fleas are questions somewhat beyond me so I am telling you all about this and it’d be quite easy to doubt this is some fictious situation but for your own personal information it’s quite real and I’ve got a feeling that soon this cat will have a name and it will be a star of near-daily fame but will I start to feed it and if so will it need to sit outside my door at all hours and more calling for me and needing me and what are you if you’re not needed anyway and does it matter if it’s a cat that’s doing the needing as if some other advice to be heeding would do the trick quicker being loved not shoved setting the example but no one needs to see that to take that cat as a metaphor stored up as a key to unlock what’s going on with me

justwrite 16 october

no matter the give there needs to be some take maybe a manifesto of sorts purporting to report an occasional realization you’re not more loved if you just keep giving or are you maybe you’re giving yourself an illusion truth in a different form a coming storm but only full on the outbox no letters sent no package meant for that particular funicular of a holiday stay quiet and don’t mope but take notes so when the account goes bankrupt you can see how investments really work and if you believe this it could really hurt to acknowledge but there has to be something that didn’t quite function right and on this rainy night only in the mirror is there a clearer view of who could have had something to do with it a brew fit to be filtered but still bewildered with all this grit in my teeth too much to release to part with and no real desire to start with the process and the floss it gets caught bought up by the gallon and the cottonballs for soaking up a lake and leaving some other church did we go swimming in the ocean and where were all those plans go a slow boat a wordless note the only kind getting sent and now it’s barely ten days spent at this stage and this page is hard to see the bottom of the golden glove that comes to turn it a velvet curtain discerning a next act but to protect that which remains is to blame nothing no one to push aside the edges hard and sharp and bumped into the dark snagged on the edge of the wrong song I can’t hear now and I fear both the ending and the pretending that it’s just businesslike and I ride my bike and blow bubbles when the troubles are over when the clovers all come up and when I pick a different number color some other point to make to myself I recall that no one needs to know there’s no cause to show such a raw side but I guess it’s fair to say it’s easy to lose this day and much more than hoped for I should spend my day counting parking tickets or measuring flour in generous mounds but when the sound comes down and my pen finds the lines in my mind and draws them out leeching not blood but guts maybe it’s healthy but leaking eyes turn to headaches and agonizing over mistakes just a step back just a different track for now and I will put the pen down

Friday, October 15, 2010

justwrite 15 october

keeping it honest doesn’t mean you have to keep talking saying everything letting it all fall out no doubt there’s some benefit and a fair bit of it to let things go but there’s no show with the flash that cashes itself in and the exchange rate is a strange bait to set out there it’s share and share alike a bike and a helicopter the rock stars and granola bars I can spin those words together too and I can make a lumpy stew worth eating every night and each bite will taste sweeter until the end of the pot maybe a pot hole or maybe the open soled shoes true that’s not a good idea but someone’s buying someone’s got a glassbottom boat that leaks like a mote of a good idea blown up into something bigger and messier the stress tests are all getting passed and the gas prices are getting trashed out behind the convenience store and in the front too and what’s more we’ve got a story to tell we spell out our industries and we sell off investments no one’s got a name spent in an ill-gotten way we can stay off the street but when we smell those frying onions there’s something that comes undone and there’s nothing to turn back against into and through we are eating our way into the winter gotta toughen up gotta grow a gut and a fur coat and each remote chance turns us on from a distance there is no dance worth jigging there is no rig worth climbing for any kind of diamond what you want is something real something you can feel but not only with your eyes an undisguised surprise when you find it and wonder who could be behind it and I used to think I knew but it’s true that times change and the cast listing got rearranged we’ve taken pains to pass the blame to the right sectors but the collection leaves something to be rethought and when we’re looking in the plate we may find our fate is skimpier than tea leaves in the midmorning breeze shuffling those pages replacing those rages with sorrow and brushing that down moving it along singing some other song the words of which haven’t been practiced the lack of lesser pain the greater the gain and some other sort of reversal the rehearsal of some thoughtthrough knowledge learned in some elementary college we can spell and we can read and we know that we can succeed but where’s the need in propping up the product when people know about buying there’s no disguising the selling if it turns sideways to a felon there’s no backstreet there’s no retreat and this is someone else’s story there’s no glory to be offered up in that direction just an insurrection in the making and no one bringing home the bacon

Thursday, October 14, 2010

post 14 october

justwrite 14 october

you have to plant the clover first if you want to grow that kind of luck you can duck but when the covers come up over your head you might as well have read a different book you can’t cook what you’ve got in mind if you can’t find better ingredients there’s no need for expedience here but it’s clear that there has got to be a direction we’re not looking to make corrections on something that exists but the truth is there’s still some looking to be done still some facts that haven’t been hung pictures unstrung from the rest of the reel and if you feel like it’s worthwhile to wake up then there’s no mistake to take up arms but here this means hands and fingers get to spilling out something more than canned sameness we stride about like blameless representatives of something that we can’t forgive we are playing into our own hands and it’s a sad land that comes up with that as a motto we cannot keep walking over the same bridge waiting for the next ridge to look right in the new light I am brighter than those doubts and I am putting trout into that stream I will not catch I can only release and this is how to sow to sew to put it out and bring together I am never forever about to forget this piece but for now and how and if I think too deeply it hits too steeply and I’m going down into the dark there are too many songs I need to not hear there are too many words that bring a dark fear a loneliness the risk of being forgotten I have nothing to offer to the space but the fear of being completely erased is one I can’t take on myself I need some help to stand on the right side on dry land because the founding fathers were floundering in water for a long time and they still are playing broken guitars and offering advice for shipwrecked souls we’re playing in the shallow shoals and if I should fall behind if I completely unwind back to that beginning it’s too much swimming for these arms it’s too charming to delete defeat and I wish I could bliss away the inbetween days now to whenever it’s all just calm and I wish you well and I can sit a spell and hear your name without a change in demeanor there’s a meaner side but the one I can’t hide is the sadder the matter the batter is baking but no idea what I’m making and will it be edible and is this evidence credible what to believe and nobody to deceive I am out in the open and the breeze is hoping to rustle up something worth reporting but now nothing distorted nothing gained in this single frame just the dreams upstreaming their way through the dark no paddles nowhere to park and all the runningwild wishes kissing each evening for the offer of quiet there’s no riot there’s no melting but the floating is ongoing and it’s not too peaceful knowing there’s less to hold on to if a stronger wind comes through

justwrite 13 october

sometimes my life is more interesting when my eyes are closed and strictly speaking I don’t mean those moments trying to achieve balance in a woodfloored mirrorwalled studio with ambient musics and I suppose speaking even more strictly would force me to admit it’s not my life but a series of abstract unconscious constructions tucked in by the day and awakened after all that’s taken place in the light is dropped for the night into the inbox to foxtrot and fandangle its way from that tray to some file but hardly the ranking kind and you must be blind if you’re not seeing I’m leaning toward dreaming as the source of interest each test passed on a given day may or may not matter but the scattering of the involved data when reincorporated later into some fictional framework shows just how well brainwork can become misdirected even in the day when I say if I play by these rules can we please fool me into not thinking about those blinking red lights well that’s the request the spark that ignites the right screw that turns burning a bridge built just yesterday but I mean to say that dreams fill my notebook in green ink just the black thinks itself out affords stable doubts and certain occurrences the sentences carried out each and every heavy on the way to end punctuation a final destination but this is information and not color when the green steams by these are images forgiven clips and borrowed lips collaged from the barrage of impulses registered not having stirred much there’s a hot rush of telling without plot points not quite out of joint but not a novel idea to anoint with a book deal a spinning wheel reeling offscreen and waiting to be examined to see what I mean

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

justwrite 11 october

let’s joke about yolks and if those legs have eggs they’ll get away before they hatch no one wants to catch what’s being sold get scolded for transgressions during mistaught lessons we are all so busy the dizzy stars make constellations out of our finer points we anoint the earth with our tracks collapse cadillacs against obscene amounts of green here meaning cash ‘cause there’s no dash into nature that doesn’t hit pay dirt oftentimes it does hurt but the kind of wound you keep checking under the bandage in the mirror clearly not trying to poke it but hoping for healing or some new feeling in response like living alone but coming home to find a note on the table or an unexpected magazine left carelessly by a new turn of events having leapt the fence passed through the door and what’s more having left the rest of some delicious dessert in the fridge just in case it’s wanted and I know it is I keep looking around every time and it’s fine when I find nothing new because what would I do really if I found some sign of invasion in this one-key safe haven but still the same the healing game only played alone and the score doesn’t go up too high without trying the daylight is dying earlier now and this is how the season gets measured for worse or for better there is no one else home and when the curtains get closed it’s by my own hand and I understand exactly what I’m doing even as I’m brewing thick dark worried wonder at the completeness of the night

Sunday, October 10, 2010

justwrite 10 october

recently while reading I’ve been heeding messages stressed by the authors or at least offered as forgivings misgivings thanksgivings for some unfathomable situations the creations of their circumstances around which their dances were going on at that time with wolves or otherwise and they transcribed these thoughts into books I’ve bought or borrowed or otherwise attained and I’ve remained open it’s the same I’m hoping in each new movie or poem or some sort of delivery I’ll see what I need a philosophy an answer to a question a lesson to learn some story to earn interest off of and if I invest in this new strategy we’ll see you’ll be I’ll free myself the health and the happiness all in it together forever the measures the treasures and the tragedy’s all gone melting off scoffing at its own existence disappearing simply without resistance because of this character’s action because of some historical attraction between those events and these days the simple ways I’m trying to solve to live to evolve to give meaning and to stop leaning so heavily inward as if there’s any other way to go to show up means to play and to stay home under the covers is only good a night at a time and it’s fine to be afraid but we’re made of stronger stuff and those are steep bluffs to jump from at any given time you’ll be fine just not mine and I’ll rewind not at all but just call in the present and outside resources citing each one and the right format could’ve warned that I should have taken better notes but all those wrong quotes echo in my ear losing me and moving on and just friends and now it’s time to and no I don’t see then I need to breathe deep and listen to other authors’ lines we are not the only speakers in the universe a diverse range of options up for adoption these are the spicy advices of life and we give credit where it’s due but it’s true that I’m listening closer supposing opportunity will come to me in the text form the visual delivery this painting this song all along they’ve been giving me something and soon I’ll know what it is and pick it right up and play

Saturday, October 9, 2010

post 9 october

justwrite 9 october

when the heat comes on it’s possible that I’ll stop writing the wrong month in the date date line it’s a tv show that I don’t think I’ve ever seen scene stealers are the real dealers of wheels and you can see how I feel since I’m drifting off course of course there’s no direction that I need to turn to turn true wheels and you’ll feel a change you can rearrange those pieces of your own puzzle puzzle over the pieces and their messy edges no straight lines to guide you guiding light to hide you from the dark you can park in the middle of the street and still miss all the traffic traffic lights bright enough but not enough information to save you from getting lost tempest-tossed and all those allusions illusions are the truth you want to see or the water you want to drink but the thing of it is to think of it is easy but to drink from it is not not a lot of that going on on top of the world world wide word games played played out out of time time immemorial and other clich├ęs that students study in foreign languages language is supposed to be the key and here it is to me as well not as a bell to ring out clearly and to create a solution to the problem at hand but the problem in my head instead how to deal with the fallout and sort the trout from the rainbows bowing down to the earth and catching and releasing the same sorts of metaphors I’ve adored for so long with their sweet sounds like suturing the future to the present to the past but in the present it’s lasted nicely and it’s a little dicey to imagine the future in the same trend not quite the end but the deep bends with lots of oxygen in the blood gulping for air and fairing almost well if it’s not farewell but fell swoops are too big one jump at a time one step into the air and think stop yellow light brighter than caretakers of the sunshine movieland out of hand word sprawl I cannot call back anything I’ve said and I wouldn’t instead I will paste them onto the wall and call up something new it’s true I’ve been stewing but what’s brewed up wouldn’t make a tasty cup of anything and it’s scary enough to call your own bluff but to find out it’s true that the use of it all is nonexistent even though you find yourself resistant in the morning it’s time to open the curtain and even though it’s uncertain light and cold that pour in this is what there is to work with this is not a jerk of the chain this is the main lode the stash not to cash in on but not to trash with closed eyes not to surprise yourself into stupor trying to avoid rather something to be buoyed up by and to try to sip slowly not to slip lowly

justwrite 8 october

I am proud to say that the ways and the means have made it to committee we are smitten with distraction we cause attractions where they don’t exist we resist magnetism we reenact tragedy with disdain giving it different names and shouting various doubts into the wind sink sink swim swim and all the sim cards live large charging various denominations dominating the nations and uniting the unbelievers we tie the receivers together and guess what we get we spit back rhymes and in time we imagine ourselves the wrappers of something new we deliver truth as we see it we bit into the center and we imagine caramel of course it’s nothing like but the sun is bright enough to be seen even in a candle if you can handle the extension release yourself from this dimension and eat a full meal watch yourself heal and stop feeling sorry for your story it’s the one you’re writing and you’re daying and nighting it up biting off everything you chew is truly the way it goes and if you’re so disposed you should write a letter you should send it to yourself to see if you feel better by the time it’s received is it healthy or diseased to look only in the mirror for days at a time are you fine yet can you get over yourself and this is a message sent internally there’s no spurning any other angle there’s no dying card played in a large hand scattered across a different land I will never love that country I will never speak that tongue I will have hung out to dry any connections that try to make themselves there but it’s fair enough to back off you might scoff at the chance you’re being offered but it’s the only one that’s mine to take if you want to break that cake in such a way it’s hard to put together again but in the end it’s still all there is to eat and to meet defeat with runaway feet can’t get you anywhere and it’s a foursquare meal deal that isn’t always happy doesn’t always come with a toy won’t always be enjoyed but everybody’s got to eat and the sun will keep doing that thing so why not have bought in notice in the passive tense it’s easier but the active voice needs a lot more force and energy and it’s not always going to be mustered or mastered thatway

Thursday, October 7, 2010

post 7 october

justwrite 7 october

concentrating on latening the day straightening the pace into a different place has a waiting game playing out the doubts and the trout turning from rainbow to an upstream team gaining steam with passing moments the flow of guts and energy away from me and into the slipdown tumblewide prairie a scary place to face alone the rolling stone I am not gathering I cannot fathom two deep or a mark full of twain there’s a rain on that plain and it has my name on it a whodunit without clues enough to choose between we screen our calls and mark our falls on stage left and we’re up night and day playing some other game pretending that a different fame will come and replace this space this empty looking for songs to mean the right words having heard echoes of a thousand supposings posing in the shadows in the rightbehind bus seats we sweeten our coffee and scoff at failure the canal we’re swimming up through is meeting an intersection and it’s not a connection we can afford to miss we twist and turn our earnings checking the interest and calculating our clenched fists can we turn on the heat tonight and here this means just a plug the love is not enough the love is not the jungle is not around the in the prepositions are reversed and it’s the worst to feel alone and to push the phone away the stray cats are waiting to be picked up the puppies in the street meeting eyes and soulful disguises pretend deep emotion seeking devotion the kind that won’t call and say sorry won’t fall behind and press a few dollars into your hand saying call when you’ve landed and let me know how it’s going that kind of devotion an ocean away I thought might stay closer but supposing and posing and a new roster a tempest-tossed stir and ingredients too expedient to ignore there’s another shore but it’s uncertain and hurting for sure where the wild fern knows and the blue dolphins swim all those allusions trimming up the space replacing the blank and trying to fill the tank

justwrite 6 october

I’ve been watching all the wrong movies recently the ones with these themes and straightback lines connecting to the nexus of us and our mythology it’s a mess the lines and the times in the day when I’d pay anything to avoid tripping over them and drowning into through under collections of connections I am not trying to forget but I have to get up in the morning not stuck not just avoiding the mirror and the walk home alone in the dark parking under the covers and waiting for sleep I am creeping myself with the thoughts that occur to me still they’re deferred by my sense of reason but if that turns treasonous then I’m afraid for what will have stayed behind I find myself thinking blinking back light angles sliding down my face there is too much to erase to keep to heal and I feel inadequate there is no plan there is no reason and the night is the worst but also the morning and this is a picture of honesty of despondency I am advertising the truth in the most uncouth manner if you think I’m a planner then you’ll again be disappointed and so will I but the reasons to try are too scattered to matter upon examination I cannot face the nation what I want and what I need exceeding the bounds on both sides I am hiding and wish you were seeking but I can’t afford peeking when I know what I’m losing and it’s not my own choosing too many clues and we lose the key to this mystery of we and how we can be without

justwrite 5 october

apart the weather runs itself turns off the shelf and over through into the contents another proposition toward errant prepositions these are my thoughts after and during I am putting everything out where you can see it I am hanging myself out to dry because somebody ought to and otherwise I would still be waiting the rating of this decision is currently low but I know it will be walked down if not off I know it will be talked through and truer facts will surface and I will be ready to admit them into the realm of possibility much less my field of vision feel such revision of the current situation is needed plus some back-dating and if you are waiting for the slide into apology I can only offer a view from the inside I can’t hide any sort of truth from you and so you know it hurts so you hear those curt statements and know I’ve spent the will the energy of all that sadness in a grasp of reality grabbing at straws no more building no blowdown house just stepping outside nowhere to find an easier solution proposing disillusion and internal contusions in the form of quiet of exile a riot fighting its way back to the yard it’s not hard for you to tell I can’t spell any other ideas out of these letters and it was your draw that chose them so now it’s time to dispose of them

justwrite 4 october

calling back the track is off the hook is cough whooping a crane the main line the twine rhymed with many other strings bringing to fruition a name-changing solution you are not reaching for me and I am not there we are all aware of the passage of time through varying corridors but the worry’s more the windows the glows given off and the wishes taken in do you remember how to swim and do I know how to sink let’s think of something else manage health and housing projects like ironing and laundry the irony of growing cold in the summer the delivery of a summary that only sits well in court that purports to be proportional to the crime of innocence in a sense no one did wrong and in another sentence we are waiting for punctuation to end there is no verb and a few too many nouns bogging down the dry docks up on blocks and not streetready fed but and fed upon but more woebegone than such tidings could be hiding I am transparent and we share this but I guess that has to go too and there’s the other shoe guess it’s my turn to drop it a hurdle I can’t hop curdling my stomach to a square knot fair or not

Sunday, October 3, 2010

justwrite 3 october

ready before the ship sank to refill the tank with something else some health and some success messed up with a scramble of eggs growing legs and running off coughing to a different angle trying to strangle a new lead freed and released caught and re-bought we’ve taught new dancers old tricks and something with the hat makes it hockey trolleys and broomsticks picking up the pieces we are entering the library firing all the maids in the dairy and asking for chocolate instead we’ve led ourselves this far and it’s a car-ride to hide and a trainstop to walk off there’s a track but a code I can’t crack has got all those eggs begging to be sent back we can’t counteract what we can’t understand but that doesn’t mean we can’t demand that doesn’t mean we’ll receive but we try and we believe something in that direction something with uncertain correction I am trying but only halfway on some days I am flying out from the earth the worst of the best and the rest of the tests to pass just laughing from a distance I have little resistance to those sentiments and they overtake like waves saving files in hasty piles and wondering when the crash will come but today it’s sunny and the team last night tied colder than inside but not much different the leaves calling all those ground balls calling switchup pitches in a game I don’t understand nobody wins but everybody goes home and breathes out and calls doubt back and says no thanks maybe tomorrow for tonight I’ll take fireworks instead I’ll have ready that book I’ll have exchanged that look for fresher currency I can reuse those blues in another rainbow choose your stance learn your dance by heart and play the part you’re writing keep fighting but only battles you want to win you sink and swim at the same time and that’s just fine if you’re not trying to get anywhere but from here that’s not quite what I have in mind at this time

Friday, October 1, 2010

justwrite 1 october

can’t take that breath any deeper can’t take that sound from a beeper it’s going on and on and the onomatopoeia is enough to get you ticked and also off there’s a scoff in there somewhere but it’s too high to care about there’s something deeper for the conversating the slowly waiting for removal this deal can go this bird has flown and I don’t want to sit here looking at the cage counting no age and wondering about lyrics how they possess each stretch of the road exploding into the space where original lines could be but instead quoting from movies and tv and every other whoseline anyway straying from its context and into what I say next I thought I had some originality stored up in me but when I peek inside what’s hiding but a blank slate ready for waiting some more pouring on details and waiting to see what sails I am ready for the challenge but not just any style the angle not so wild to be expected I’ve neglected some pages and read other texts I’ve wondered what’s next even when I thought I knew it’s true that it’s raining but complaining is like asking for something else and what could be better than knowing what you’re getting forgetting surprises for the time being and seeing how it goes rolling some sort of flow downhill and not so much fighting to add it up we’ve got the power but the energy is a different matter not enough collateral to hold down that fort and if it’s truly as easy as purported to be then only time will show but in the meantime these puddles are so wide the other side is swimmable these songs are hardly hymnable but wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to sing to someone to ring through the dark and park on the other end of that couch and slouch forward to say what’s that you’ve got going someone worth showing this mess of color these pages splayed across creative wastelands I am eating and I am feeding but kneading some sort of dough baking some sort of unknown the recipe will come back to me if I ever had it if I had time to grab it while dashing out and Thursday Friday dreams do not come true if no one’s told before noon and that’s been more than long gone soon