justwrite 16 november

you think you’re caught up then you get caught up in some picture you never saw before and you’re wondering was it there or more often than not you’ve got something that comes right to mind you can’t define it in words just a feeling that the healing isn’t fast enough like crashing through the trash and picking out something clean then looking down at the scene and finding you’ve barreled into dirt and the worst of it is there’s no time to change no clothes to rearrange into because company’s coming and they’re not going to listen to this kind of talk again you had your time to get over that and it’s a scatterglorious game to play to wave away those reflections into other directions with different letters it matters it splatters across the mirror each time you look and the note from a friend lending greetings and a mention of meeting he’s looking well she’s happy to tell and it’s a crushed piece of garlic stuffed into your cheek and have another and put this lemon on your tongue while you talk in the meantime smile it’s been a while but it doesn’t matter all those mad hatters keep drinking their tea and playing old music you saw the truth in it at one time but now it’s just rewinding and you’re hoping to find some misheard tunes there’s a half-empty moon and someone’s got to fill it there’s too much cost to bill it to just one duck but there’s a platypus ready and waiting in the wings to bring that check to plant that wreck in the middle of the camera and stammer out apologies for the trees and how the light can’t get right into the frame we’ve rearranged our viewfinders and I don’t mind taking the time to learn the new words but at some moments absurdly fresh slaps in the face chase down some perfectly pleasant event sent to defend me against relapse the fall into a trap we always we used to we would say we we but now it’s me and you with spaces and without collectivization there’s no farm we couldn’t harm with that sort of neglect and if you recollect those senses that you planted no doubt something good will grow something richly sown with time will vine up to the clouds and you’ll be allowed to play that harp and goose that gold and all the giants will let you go with a pat on the head and a bean to grow so you can always come back can always attract another look though meanwhile I cook up metaphors to restore sense to sentences but slip through dimensions at the slightest bite of the past remembering how long it lasted and seeing how the roles were cast wondering how that blast could have a different star because that’s the deal ferreal and nothing to steal nothing to buy just a half-eaten sandwich that I’ve got to wonder who will try