justwrite 13 january

just for a moment there’s a sonnet and upon it someone’s set a vase replacing the space with flowers and my fingers stutter muttering through the pages of a dream I wrote down in the middle of last night a flashlight full of pretend revelations a station I tuned into I zoomed out of and could not sleep there were too many sheep to count and I flounted flaunted daunted by the collapse of night under the weight of a cloud-coddled sun I have run out of space to tell those texts what could be next but everyone’s a reader and everyone’s a critic some are overanalytic and this is where I come in this is where I sing sin from another mouth I’m traveling south in expectations the collocations don’t come out right when you’re not from there when you’re not quite aware of how the story’s going to be told we hold our own hands out but no demands shouted from our lips could eclipse the rational cash-in paying in logic for more chips going all in and other idioms we are rehearsing the music we’ll never have to play we’re carting trays of eggs along strong-arming the drivers into arriving safely we’re reasonably hopefully we’re told again nope full of disdain those trains and their cars the drinkers and their bars on track and off while I was walking home there was a joke and it was about cultural stereotypes and also potholes but here I’m being polite and if you ask me another night I might give in but here I’m sinking to swim again better the wetter the water the better the drink the sink is overflowing but it’s mostly going down and I’m not going to drown so I’ll keep my head up and sup on flowering cabbage all that I could grab from the hodgepodge grocery bin producing such produce as we have rarely seen in other spheres turning right round baby like a green head of leaves cleaving together and turning out to be quite translucent upon sautéed reflection a collection of flavors to savor all called upon by an oniony dawn rising brighter and turning the kitchen the house the great wide land a more delicious flavor I remember who didn’t like the smell of cooking onions of brewing coffee the taste of strawberries and these were all signs but when you know how to drive you just plan to keep going throwing all those scraps aside but when you arrive you find all this compost and you decide to anyway make the most and you do and it’s not stew but it’s well done and justright