justwrite 25 january

if I was my camera if I were capable if I were drape-able across all kinds of scenes creating my own meaning I would never be so mean as to leave me alone as to rattle down some unknown road oh where can it be and the hairbrush song comes to mind courtesy of a far-off roommate another kate sounds like Africa but all those sounds are worth lots of pictures glimmering clicking winking in the corner of my eye I am trying to find this lens this deep end I have jumped into is falling through and over and around again the sand in the hourglass the whispers all running fast through the what-ifs and the well-thens and there are sentences worth continuing but this is not one there are answers worth giving but this isn’t one I have I am scattering like ashes I am trashing like matches turning into fire I am wired all along the mulberry bush chasing the weasel and never thinking it’s all in fun because for one and for two it’s something I use and I’m worrying through this I’m cooking up some dish and I am hoping not to have to eat it cold or at all in the summer or a squall I can’t talk my way out of there’s some doubt of clarity there’s a difference in disparity and the similarity in twinness if only I had a witness then all the answers would dance into my mind while I was sleeping and stop the weeping brain from reclaiming details never failing to brush off anxiety the trying way the slow decay of facts the collapse into resignation but this isn’t how to quit there are still possibilities right there are still places I haven’t looked right I’m sure and what’s more I’ll find them if not it