post 31 january

justwrite 31 january

waiting for the blinking lights to stop taking such bites out of my time my mind the rhymes chime discordantly the forded streams and the tumbled trees taking their toll blocking such strolls as I might have imagined these days would afford we’ve shored up supplies but we find we’re not on land we turn from the digital to what else is at hand and find ourselves turning back on tracks of different sorts purporting to need what someone else might disagree with it’s a spree twisting itself out of my ears through the lips whips and chains and to-do lists written in mine own hand commanding a later landing than expected despite the clear skies forecast or forecasted ridding ourselves of unnecessary syllables we seek out judges then hide from them we manage our own accounts we cross-check the amounts and in the meantime we read limes like we’re made out of lemons we dash past cops like on-the-loose felons I am telling you and there’s some truth to it that the more we do it the more we choose to drop this line and start again I was born in a place not like this one I was found on a mountain I was dropped in a stream I was cleaned and returned having earned at least partial interest on the investment at the best meant for some other bearer some bond some pond I dove back into seeking out a window through to a lookingglass view I asked alice I thought she’d know since I’d heard so in a song but it turns out that was wrong and she hadn’t the foggiest and was rather the hoggiest with her gathered facts and couldn’t quite relax enough to offer up a clue and if you weren’t there I might have let her have it but you’re the kindest whitest rabbit I’ve ever followed anywhere so I think it’s probably only fair to treat you kindly winding down thataway playing the muse dropping the truth down a different rainbow through the roundabout and out into the elsewhere it’s only there that I’ll find any piece of mind from which to build a mountain or a molehill but the current bill is mounting and there’s hardly even a fountain spurt of work being done just a hum and a hem and a ho and a there-we-go sort of deal to feel excited about at the end of the day although in the morning the dawning is too glaring with or without the red rockets so we let it break of its own accord and have the rest scrambled later when the mood strikes right

justwrite 30 january

we are steamed in high esteem we are preened and primed the lines are all written the teasers are all smitten with themselves and the elves have brought the hot-to-trot out to pasture to master their own fears to turn from yearlings to sterling pounds we have rounded the bend