justwrite 16 april

and yet as time goes by the flies crawl higher and the fire sets itself on low there are growing things and twisted rings stringing their way along the outside the whatever I thought I was going to say there certainly lost some steam along the way the track cracked up and off I jumped a lump rolling down the bank and withdrawing no cash just crashing gently into the impossible shrubberies it can’t be done there are no herring there is no herring wearing out its singular/ pluralized form the norm none the more sensible we have unmentionable fears and oversized ears but these too are unmistakable we are taking full trays of food we don’t need we are leading friends to tables and seating them while they’re able to stand commanding improvement projects where they may not be needed and heeding ourselves with bragging tongues and overworked immodesty we are talking and talking and we are building our own mountains posing for personal fountains and when the people come when the people are let go when they get to this mountain top when they crossed the parted sea they will see me and wonder what does she think she’s doing there and why is she wearing those shoes isn’t she going to get a haircut already or what is how’s that writing thing working out anyway or is that just one of those scenes those screams for attention those leans into other dimensions look at me it’s a book you see I’ve written there are three others and my mother’s in favor and my friends all nod but they might as well be locked for all the reading that they’re getting it’s more like a miss than hitting but someday maybe they’ll find other shelves they’ll become hardbacked selves and situate their futures into other sorts of catalogs the cards the blogs the numbers dewey on the bindings reminding themselves of their place the space we’re all allotted and some of us have bought extra by building up treasures but there’s no measure better than the part that’s art carved into the mind deeper than the shelf a wealth of golden green that stays raised above the surface of still waters cool and dark and wet as wet can be

justnotes 15 april

write about storks at every fork

write about the dog watching the post office to see if his letter comes I think it’s a D

write about suspiciously still geese probably real but stark against the darting chickens

write about the wide brown rectangles of earth overturned by invisible hands

write about roofs that show use and endurance

write about the grandmother checking hair, scarf in a jagged piece of pocketkept mirror

justwrite 14 april

this travel unravels in unexpected skeins the unguessed means and ways saving imagination the trouble bubbling up overflowing cups of possibility the stuff of probability the lot of the past the under-gassed over-thought gently wrought bits with the hands twisted in strands of damaged cabbage the baggage brought along sure to be unneeded the depleted strength of so many maps collapsing in on the wrong folds holding routes together with tape no escape from the weary train a neverfail rush at the lush light of day playing itself out again the trends at both ends tied together with our eyes closed we’re indisposed to see the sense we sleep to wake and change the tense and what time and again and the friends of schedules and also their enemies we chart our anemones on post-it-sized planners shrugging off manners and hoping for the best for the passage of tests and also of scenery because it’ll plainly be a different game if those kind of changes don’t get made we thought we’d paid for tickets but our seat belts sure weren’t clicked and we had other things in mind but those boxes just weren’t ticked off and so we were instead and we wonder if we’ve fed ourselves to the lions if we’re trying to set these challenges in our own way if we’re reading the words of a different play than the one that’s running now than the one that’s shifting how and if we pay attention the monologues to a different dimension the audience who must be there the family who can’t help but care just waiting for the station to be switched for the remote to be fixed for all that static to add up to something worth watching the black and white splotching shifting into sense the tense becoming present perfectly styled to go out of fashion even as it starts to exist a risk nobody wants to take a fake mistake and a real fine choice melding into one and the same a city that forgets its name on every block next time you walk you should leave a trail you should take a whale for the ride and hide inside until it’s time to come back up for air