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