Wednesday, March 30, 2011

justwrite 30 march

the scene as seen from the afternoon up over the afterschool bridge two boys two friends ahead of me turn back they see someone I don’t turn around I don’t know but it must be some boy they don’t like or some girl they don’t like or some boy they like or some girl they like and so they run away throwing their heads backward to see how fast they are escaping from this whoever and then they are tired of running less than a minute in maybe thirty seconds and they hang over the railing looking at the tracks and glancing back they realize whoever is too far away to worry about and so on they go crossing the bridge until one looks back and sees whoever is closer and so they run again repeat repeat but finally whoever catches up but only with one and he takes this one by the arm and I think it’s sweet the enmity washed away but whoever points two fingers at his captive’s head and marches him forward to his fellow soldier willing to make a deal but none too soft and I am disappointed and move on not running but not looking back

another scene as seen from the narrow sidewalk behind the building before the gardens two couples or might be and three beers two sitting one bouquet standing up looking professionally distracted but still watching the standing gangly-armed teenager gesturing with his beer she is waiting to see something that might not be there but she does not walk away

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

justwrite 29 march

I should be asleep I should be just keeping my own counsel dancing like a damsel high up on distress there’s a dress and it tore there’s a foot and it’s sort but in the meantime my neck will correct itself soon enough we have our health and that’s enough we have the bread it’s already tough but this is how we do and this is how we chew longer than we’d like do to but if there’s to be swallowing then the directions to be following are printed on the label are lying on the table we are flying when we’re able and the rest of the time the bus does fine and the train even better though depending on the weather the snow might let one go and keep the other there’re so many mothers and the fathers in the pictures are quite sure that everything will develop as it ought to and they’ve thought through the alternatives but the best choice to rejoice in is sleeping right now and how and so it will be for so it is written and now I am smitten with the idea bitten with it clear through to morning

Monday, March 28, 2011

justwrite 28 march

we are talking we are walking through the paces we are changing our graces our silverware there’s no way to compare ashes to oranges or apples to dust we must entrust ourselves to the present there’s nothing left to give to the past and the future has no pockets we’ve locked it up we’ve swallowed the key and we’re wondering where the subject went the concrete tent I thought I’d build is easily spilled over by an abstract wind a wave that brings confusion and illusions of sense I thought I’d mention this I thought I’d steal a kiss from the window no pane no view no gain no truth we are shaking our teeth back and forth coursing like reindeer through the salad we are taking up ballads and singing them into our mirrors nothing clearer than that nothing I want in a hat could ever tell it all nothing like a ball to bounce with a story to trounce fits of remembrance I have a temperature I have a fir tree and a popcorn shoe I am telling you there are other ways to live but if there’s something you’d want to give for an ounce of gold I’d give it to him I’d swim it across the floss and into the books we’re looking for a miracle we’re already on the sequel and there’s no equal sign here no steer-clear jigsaw from all you saw and all you know the snow keeps coming and the buzzards keep humming with hard-edged lips sending their tips toppling and their stocks locked into barrels the bull marked it and the bear charted the tops the twenty the most likely to succeed in needed reasoning we are seasoning the salt we’re worth the earth that won’t grow we know ourselves to be self-evident and we are equal we are full of thoughts that will not sleep the monkey mind that keeps itself swinging bringing wonder to the plunders of the world the thunder that’s hurled itself with lightning-shy speed needs no answer takes nothing to task leaves nothing to chance and dances with one foot in the air until the tension falls again

Sunday, March 27, 2011

justwrite 27 march

on the way up there is sky but also heels and there is no way down it’s impossible to imagine a reversal of these travails on the same trail trying and true and doing the best that anyone can stand to handle can’t hold a candle to that sort of trying buying out all the stores with an attractive force of this window across the yard trying hard to distract from the vague muscles cracked out of uselessness pressing into motion devoting themselves to a higher cause pausing to consider the pleasure of straightened legs not folded pegs pulling up and pushing forward the glorious reward is itself and health has little to do with wishing twisting sense from gravity and taking more than your fair share I’d have farewelled that mission with more pieces missing if I hadn’t had the blissful sense to ignore physical warnings and impatient churnings what about and what if and can you imagine well yes and that’s the problem and there’s no time for real solving just doing and putting so much into twisting ankles and craning necks to see what’s next on the ground suddenly surrounded by sky in three sides we are trying to keep our heads above water and so we are and so we’re far above sea level and it’s possible I’ll never be up here again standing at such an angle trying not to dangle there is terror and there is panorama there’s a camera waiting to blow away waiting to have its say and point and click and cluck about that icier peak the next one up and cupping a heart in hands there’s nowhere to stand and no kind of balance for this sort of challenge I can stand in a tree but I cannot fall with grace I can race my face against my feet hoping to meet some shrub I can grab some drab but beautiful obstacle but here there are none here there is sun and sometimes shadow the wind brings these in turn and the churned-up snow grows faster with each hurtling disaster of adolescence in disguise hiding surprise and patience in the same pocket locking up and bending my head instead of leading I’m heeding quietly I have no stick I have no pinprick of an inkling of what I was thinking in coming so high but there’s no way that I can get out and no doubt the elevator isn’t coming and the hovercraft’s be slumming to pick up this kind of cargo at a standstill so with two hands full of air and uncertainty this is how I go down

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

justwrite 23 march

leaning toward the weather that’s not now not ever going in the right direction we make corrections you take direction well but that’s not your only feature there’s more than meets your eye at the first potato we’ve got rows to mow but not much to show for how long it’s already been we’re swimming backward and you’ve got to know how hard that is but it’s easier than drowning which is one way to look at it to book a bit differently we’ve spent our leisure hours our candled flowers all along the windowsill the garden fills itself with light and birds glide by in constant surprise at the growth of color an expansion plan poorly explained to all who remain nearby in the satellite positions the raindrops glisten on a nostalgic window bringing the curtain closed and again open hoping for remembering to turn into reality the scandals of a thousand scarves the harbor that never closes and the roses that will not wilt I’m filled up with suggestions but the alternative corrections seem too mean to spout from this mouth if I had to tell you differently you’d rather not listen if I had to give you everything I’d throw the kitchen sink in but luckily as it seems you’re happy enough with dreams of something better and walking away that’s what you take and riding away you take your mistakes and toss them out the window higher and lighter through the clouds nothing’s allowed to touch you now and off you go and through and around and there’s nothing for me in that old town there’s nothing there to tie me down and there’s nothing left to keep the space warm safe laced with irony she stops tightening and turns away playing it cool there’s no fooling these fingers and my mind says what it wants though this isn’t what I’m thinking of there’s no way though to wear a glove thick enough to keep my fingers from telling on my mind and in the meantime it’s just fine to write to myself to toast my own health and to toss it onto the field in an ivy league tradition in an ancient stadium by American standards which is just what we’ve been handed for the lateness with which we landed

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

justwrite 22 march

if the conditional tense takes too long to turn to Australia much less new Zealand I’ve got the feeling that the thunder might rumble the stumbling might fumble into an acceptable remark it’s too early dark for the way I’d like to think but it’s too fuzzybrained for a day that’s on the blink about to be exhausted tossed sloshingly from the train throw the hat up the stairs throw dad up the stairs his hat we have sat up we have listened and while walking across the otherway courtyard at dusk I saw ping-pong underway which was a surprise to say something like the least but the feast was underway in the already dark and the parked-beside spectators were weighing in dangerously close as you’d suppose they’d have to be to plainly see what was happening all the trappings of a comedy upcoming up still the ball coming straight back and bouncing the turns waited for the strategy concentrated on or maybe not we’ve easily bought our tickets for night time but a thin dime of dusk keeps the sliver of light filtering through clouds loud enough to keep the game going but when the coin drops the ball will too and it’s anyone’s guess if it’ll be found before morning

Monday, March 21, 2011

justwrite 21 march

I have no words there are absurd lumps of clay jumping about stuffing their doubts into potatoes and then running them into the sky we are trying to behave politely we are listening to music that makes no sense that’s the remix that’s the trick it’s not a cover it’s all out in the open I left that laundry soaking half the day we are playing different games but wearing the same names and I am tired of the balancing but not the balance it’s a challenge but it’s delicious and I don’t need to eat any more potatoes I’ve been on a hiatus from those glowing bulbs of magical starchlight but bright and bold they’ve exploded into mashed surprise two days in a row there are some things worth knowing and there are some that are better just to tell yourself it’s your own health but wealth is just a concept we are updating refreshing congressing we can do much more together unless we want to go our own ways that’s harder these days there’s less giving in and there’s more sinking than swimming for relationships those crazy blips in the slipstream and that’s a word I don’t use much these days that tears away a layer and I’ve lost what I had tossed into this salad calls up a ballad I don’t want to sing but rings in my ears anyway we can stand up straight it’s a long night and I want to read myself to sleep when I wake up I’d like spring I would like cream for my coffee but the orange store is too far away and that’s right where it was after another two half-classes left me with more energy than interest in directing it in correcting my feet from the straight-home no-roam setting no netting a 6 pm appointment just disjointing it eastward on the calendar Thursday morning dawns differently more preparedly than Monday night well that’s alright this time but it’s not a dime’s worth of sense to me and in the meantime Australia regales us with tales that might not be true even to mark twain which really is saying something but don’t let him think you’re saying something like a moral from a quarrel of a story he wrote that’s a hangin’ error or a shootin’ offense at the least as so he preached in a prologue or two just keep your tongue to yourself and your eyes on the paper stapling shut your lips any time an eclipse of your mind tries to define something you don’t know about just no trout in that stream America but no one stops fishing

Sunday, March 20, 2011

justwrite 20 march

early to bed and early laundry the quandary that spells us incorrectly that waits us out like staff hoping to turn down the covers or take away your salad plate we take turns feigning importance and chiding each other now now and then then but it’s a break for spring to come and a thumb in the ear at winter we’re almost clear of that we’ve almost leapt that catways over the fence I can’t help but mention the growing attention being paid to spades and the calling of them that but we scatter ourselves at each others’ doors and chorus songs of innocence and William blake we take our situations too seriously bemoan the facts the life the cause the strife and also our dirty clothes indisposed to take care of themselves they toast their own healths at the bottom of the closets the cupboards the shafas and other foreign words I am afraid of war and also its sources the causes too debatable the facts too easily statable and it’s a fall from grace it’s an easy chase around the corner the looking for reasons the defining of treasons in clear-cut terror the mirror set too far away to look into much less step through we’re breaking more pieces of more hearts and yes that one’s a cover no it’s really Janis and yes you’re a different planet away if you didn’t see that coming if you didn’t hear that humming numbing senses from remote directions too late to make corrections jumping in the middle of someone else’s fiddle solo more like a duet but maybe yet it’ll be a symphony the crash and the boom and the bang hanging harshly in the air as the audience stares with open mouths and the critics shake their heads there’s something to be said for caution and there’s more to be said for fairness but whose turn it is to decide is mighty vague from this angle we try and we fandangle our way through various piles of facts we can’t help but counteract our own suppositions with our push to do what’s right because the day and the night have two different views we hold these truths to be inscrutable but poorly elocutable to make up a word what I’ve heard worries me what I see is a wonder what I fear is a blunder and a can’t be right wrong song but we’ll wish for the best and we’ll grade all the tests at least we’re not cheating but with preferential seating it’s hard to tell what the other students think as the pencils clink down sinking into contemplation in the hallway as the marks are etched in pen

Saturday, March 19, 2011

justwrite 19 march

today there was spelling and if you believe you can make it possibly cheesier than necessary it takes an ego to build a village out of your own character the charter harder to achieve the breathing lighter in the night as your mallow goes shallow whatever that means however those schemes are made to roll out we are pouting in our study guides but we cannot hide our enthusiasm for truisms we are blue in the face we are disgracing others’ makers we are not forsaking we are not takers we are speaking of ourselves grandly from an unnecessarily lofty perspective though we each have prime directives sometimes we gamble sometimes we scramble through the cupboards looking for the eggs sometimes we whip our legs with sideways motions we are the masters of our own emotions but patience is too true a virtue to keep in check it’s a home that’s wrecked before it’s built it’s a crime that’s milk before it’s spilt we have tire tracks across the front lawn but we are yawningly interested in continuing the story the lesser glory of the greater escape the bus that turns the next corner searching for mourners before the funeral pulling them out of their complacent catalogs hung high in the rafters like crafty hammocks and more assorted millionaires the stares we receive and the anthems we believe are too colorful for transcription but like sauce ready to be dipped in we see the world around glimmering in sound and rippling light eager for the chance

Friday, March 18, 2011

justwrite 18 march

I have torched off those hot spots the infected confusion I reached for when I meant to call your number it’s too bar I forgot your name my head is tired off my neck and neglecting its other duties all it has to do is keep things straight play the material in the right keys turn the right chords lord it over no one to be honest to be fair to be a sister to every girl scout there is no doubt I live by the girl scout law or at least I try to it’s easier to hide and soon I’ll tuck my tail stuff my head in the sand and sleep toward some other answer we take our chances but sometimes we take others’ too and that’s just not right we all have what’s left from others but we should be able to pick our own as well a blueberry pie a pastry shell and it’s just as well to have soup for dinner it’s a spinner on a beanie and someone’s calling twister why don’t you write in the morning if this is how it’s going to be says the question well says the answer if you’re so clever why not just wait a few more minutes and it’ll be morning anyway ha says question ha says answer and I had the last laugh myself and I enjoyed it but not as much as a quesedilla if we had different food here too this’d be an even fatter time all the limes you could possibly want all the rutabagas you could possibly taunt while playing with a dictionary and affecting cool breezy disinterest

Thursday, March 17, 2011

justwrite 17 march

green all over the elsewhere but nobody here seems to know no one shows the slightest tinge we’re fringed with celebration but it’s another conversation with different words and I heard of zebras but I haven’t got my own herd there are words too absurd to repeat and the face that girl made yesterday I really just let it have it her way but I’d rather have handed her a mirror so as to see clearer the impression she created the little piece of my heart she sank in a tank too dank for retrieval until some other upheaval put all in its place in other clich├ęs at the end of the day I still sleep snugly having done some things right but not quite smugly it’s too ugly to say even on those days I feel like congratulations are in order like that lesson went well or you’re cooking a delicious smell and down the hall they know it as well and we are all thanking ourselves we are toasting our healths and other fine purposes the divine lines in our faces turning upward toward smiles heavenly delight bright stars in the night tracing suggestions of comfort we’re purporting to be able to turn that way to twist and stay more than a few seconds but no one’s reckoned on staying so still keeping not ill and taking plenty of showers they don’t charge by the hour but if the power stays on and the light stays hot not to mention the water than I’m as happy as an otter with a tray full of clams although if I had the same then I can’t say I’d be to blame for dumping the tray ie my slick coat in a spinaround flip to free the clams to slip sleepily back into their beds the silty treads of a footless river shivering back into complacence and lacing their shoes together a little tighter

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

justwrite 15 march

by the time I get to this point in any day much less the ivory ides declared and despised I am ready for the closing of eyes the pleasant surprise that is sleep keeping track counter-attacking the rest of the assault the catapulting leagues I am freezing my fingers into blocks of lead and my tongue unsaid cannot tell one word from another the bother of confusion the translation transliteration consternation I am not a competent speaker I am more of a tight-shoes seeker where will I find new ones when will we be all done and when the sleep comes can I keep it

Monday, March 14, 2011

justwrite 14 march

I don’t know if you remember but there was weather once and we moaned and we had stones to throw but they fell back down from the air for some reason we cried treason but the seasons changed anyway rearranged steady gazes back and forth from north to secondhand bookstores the glorious dust that makes me sick the beakers of old encyclopedias cooking up something some old-fashioned facts we cannot relax even though our taxes are not paid we strayed from the theme slightly we go to bed nightly but even when our hair gets curled we’re waiting for the other shoe to be ironed I’m fine and how is your kangaroo how are the symbols we’ve nimbly avoided hurrying along just strong-arming the tin man and crowing over the lion there’s an assignment but I didn’t write it yet there’s an answer and a wet-bent used-up cigarette let’s redirect our attention let’s give cause for pause I am tired we are all fired and when I am hiring again I’m not sure I’ll let you know there may be no room to grow after all those renovations after all those saving nations the graces the manners the under-fire hammers and how can I say no to doves even though yes that’s what I mean and even though yes it’s not my scene to agree to such an awkward situation where I find no confrontation possible nor continuation plausible I will think on this I will turn that quiz off until I have an answer but in the meantime dancer is my favorite reindeer and other questions will take their turns earning interest we are delivering ourselves from health and safety we are taking matters into our own handlebar moustaches and we are riding bikes while no one’s looking I am cooking up a pot full of something else but I cannot taste last night’s dinner without shaking my head and wondering who and why and surprised by the results like swallowing somersaults and then misspelling all the contagious names jumping out of their frames and forcing their hot breath into your confusion this is an illusion and now you know this is a ticket and I’m going to the show this is a rooster and too soon we’ll hear him crow this is the ending and so now I have to go

Sunday, March 13, 2011

justwrite 13 march

but to play without paying is to sit without saying anything in any other language would smell sweeter there’s streetwear and there’s a scary set of coordinates I haven’t met and I’d rather walk home alone in the dark than park there for any piece of time it’s a loaf and a rhyme and bread with cheese a non-dancing disease I spin in different ways I laze in extraordinary time the sense that defines the motion the ocean that calls itself back to shore again hello I’ve missed you hello I swept through another scene sight undreamed we all have fantasies and nancy drew solving skills I am not keeping up well I am telling the story I am glorying in satisfaction of an uncertain sort I have purported to sleep in a timely fashion but that’s clashing with my awakeness the snake dresses itself too but what’s the point in getting all out of joint not keeping it together there’s no weather no why and the sun still talks a good game

Friday, March 11, 2011

justwrite 10 march

on the train the maine plains are miles away the stayed execution is off again the scandal of a foreign tongue in an indigenous mouth we are travelling south and whispering into wool blankets we are listening closely over chewed raisins and rustling newspapers i am savoring the sound of those known vowels spade by played lines rhyming through asian signs maybe india maybe some other attractive accent i bought a pack meant for expansion but i got caught in the scansion and tripped on rippling feet the dactyls nearly killing off the small and juicy iambs all scuttling about like clams winking on the beach drifting barely out of reach of the walrus and the carpenter the wwaves all but a bleary blur we stick the burrs on our own clothes and complain when our stockings run the fun we've had and the stories we've dropped off the other end the holes in our teeth and the dents in our thighs the surprise when the water bottle falls the use of evidently without unenlightened pause the continental drift the exponential rifts that grow and the confessions that precede faults we catapult our expecations to the wrong side of our destinations always the other side of the tracks always some newer angle of attack we are attracting opposite withdrawing deposits and when our tires are tired it's too bad that we fired our feet all out with the bathwater and the flyswatter hasn't got a leg to stand on

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

justwrite 9 march

some sort of inspiration ought to result there’s no one at fault and the getting-over is mostly gotten over there’s no message waiting in that box there’s no tax for that talk and when you jump off a cliff there’s a splash in the best of situations it’s a braided story a narrative of multiple strands and various commands drift through we have no use for answers when all we ask are questions we teach unrelated lessons and we ought to go for runs but the sun’s in my eyes and it’s a coconut surprise waiting to make the same mistakes I did before I paid too much I baked too many I listed to more than was being said and I wrote my own epitaph practiced it aloud again and again the land rising up in the east turns out to be the sun strung along by music and unfortunate confusion the kind where illusions forget their hats and walk home in the snow the rain the pain coming down in buckets with luck it’s going to past but the forecast is in a foreign tongue and I’ve already strung this guitar with calamine lotion so my fingers won’t feel a thing won’t itch to play a song I know already my arms are too long for the coat I wanted to order a pizza and instead I got a potato you don’t know what you’re asking for but sometimes you get it and I’m waiting for a who I’m waiting for a clue there was the same word in the now-listening song I’m stronger than I could be I’m a memory groupie the truth we crowd around and fan like a lit-up spitfire the kind of plane you might want to hire if you’ll be taking that sort of trip if you’re turning an eclipse into a mint and not a moon not a crooning sort of reminder of how many windows have already gone to sleep the company I keep and the stars that I read in the bottom of my teacup have got me wondering have sent me plundering vague promises and volume control I owe it to my sole fan to keep hot to make the waving worthwhile I am in style as long as I smile with the best of them the rest of them passing the tests and breaking the nails we never fail to amuse ourselves we pay our healths forward like the five people we meet at the bazaar the car ride home always the shortest between two points and rolling those joined cues together we knock the stripes and the solids into conflicting pockets if I had a lock it’s on my heart if I had a shoe it’d be on my hand and there are no commands worth giving to anyone else just mind your own self and try to sing in tune

Monday, March 7, 2011

justwrite 7 march

days have passed the past has laughed and the future can’t get itself together there’s weather to be bypassed and winter still to outlast but we’re moving right along and the floor is mostly clean we have thrown beans all about and doubted their growth the most of the least of the dimes of the times new roman has been wandering about all the clout and none of the sense and here I’ll mention a highway man and a birthday charm there’s no alarm like the kind to turn off there’s no carbon that doesn’t get moleculed and the jeweled hat you’ve taken to wearing has little to thrill me even comparing with an accidental ball cap wrapped around Americanism the schism between tourism and belonging we’re longing for the decisions to be made so we can fade gently out but there are too many trout in that stream too many words that I can’t dream and when I see the sky open I hear the shriek of recognition the sudden snow brings and the children still play and the swings still creak we are waiting for the scarves to be unwound to bound across the mud into something more solid still the snow falls out from below and yet we’ll get there we’ll fare well and eat enough and across the courtyard men untuck their hands from winter’s pockets and shake hello and shake goodbye we will see each other again and we will do the same thing we go around and through the tunnel and the women stuff their fingers into the corners and wait for their phones to ring we are bringing ourselves sandwiches and also wine and we are dialing all the digits that add up to delivery but it never comes it always suns itself on some other website burning up its half-life in a radioactive scene we know what we mean and we have plainly met our matches in the darkened kitchens wondering about the pilot light and hoping for the captain to turn on the right sign you are free to move about the cabin and we will keep making progress anyway you can read your magazine you can preen your eyebrows and your dreams and the story will keep going last night my dreams were longer than my day and the green ink took up two pages while the black ink of reality took maybe five lines I didn’t leave I still won’t grieve the passing but the class has got to be answered for all that entails with the fails sailing backward and into their seats meeting recovery and knocking it square in the eye I am the king I am the sky and all of those other ideas are waiting for their finger-realization but their current destination is to be announced for by this point they’re trounced by stagnation and there’s no information as to when this state will abate

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

justwrite 2 march

I made the mistake I took the bait I looked to see the stats and as for there what’s at and other mistakes of syntax my collapsing head instead of finding negatives was adding up positives the applause that gives my ego is better than a window full of sun strumming itself across the morning echoing the right shades of coffee and spots of other sensory pleasures measure for treasure we take stock we lock our barrels and we sing our carols I would like to know who’s reading I would like to know who’s seeding those clouds who’s smiling out loud or at least wondering while plundering my thoughts from this page this screen my fingers mean to greet you although you have no name although it’s just the same if I don’t share with you who could compare with you on a summer’s day reading my words it’s absurd to imagine no audience but that’s just what I’ve been doing that’s just how I’ve been brewing this cup of tea and drinking it too and how do you do and how can it go on that way without a say in the matter without a clattering of hooves and other details the sounds bouncing through catastrophe and launching the newest version the untold story the unauthorized biography the calligraphy I meant to tell you was very well done but in the middle of the sun I spotted a spot and that’s got to be taken care of we can’t live life in despair of someone noticing so let’s polish the mirrors the clearer to see you with my pretty and your little dog you have got to stop with the references can’t stand without allusions then there’s no truth in the telling just smelling out connections just telling all the publishers to have their day in the sun in court in the middle of a sandwich I meant to ask but instead I took another bite which turned out to be the right decision as is often the case but really let’s face it if you’re reading this and heeding bliss in a background sense then you could at least mention it you could at least tension that line roll that twine up and give a yank speak into the can shout into the tank and store up those words then stand and deliver I shiver to hear but ready for clear response and an uppercase window to open and to let in the otherwise and the elsewhere and of course this means you too

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

justwrite 1 march

take the starch out of your stockings stand up straight of your own accord with those ribbed pants dancing like friendly stuffed bears and other kinds of references we have our preferences for velvet blazers but today it seemed that the language savers were the charity of note the ngo of hope and we will see how the progress progresses will we pick up more or less stresses by which I mean fewer since there’s nothing newer than being corrected by misdirected treachery a roundabout lechery of character we have words to share and time to space out we have doubts and also assurances we have a lot of evidence but can’t find the scales blind justice lost on the way back from the elsewhere we are doing our best to pass infinite tests but the other kind the jests are distantly written with readers caught smitten by words hurried into a mountain-high cabin just before the rain the pouring down the fog on the mountain a rented car if I’m not mistaken but of course I must be that was too late for too early more’s the point let’s miss the rehearsal and head straight to real whenever the directions are delivered I’m first in line whenever there’s a shadow of a wonder it’s probably from me leaning over and blocking the light delighted with anticipation facing the nation the wrong way around I’m grounded but not by a grownup by a doughnut and a hole-in-one the sun keeps shining but mostly in the day time which is just fine since I’d rather be asleep and keep the dark up a little while longer another verse songer as some might say where some are none and to me it’s just fun to have other interpretations of regular registrations of words of phrases of miscellaneous phases to go through to sort out and to develop quite a filing system in the meantime you should see those nails you should trim those sails it never fails to fascinate to deliberate but don’t concentrate just make that orange juice right