justwrite 20 june

having thought it out it’s true there are doubts about the reasons about climbing up the treasons in various seas and we are captured by our tongues hung out to dry I have tried to imagine a future with punctuation but the fascination with flow grows on and it’s possibly ridiculous to write like this but it keeps my fingers moving and it’s behooving sort of anyway I’d like to say that meaning also matters as words clatter to the floor and nothing’s left but space we cannot erase ideas and this is what it comes to this is how we hum through sketches and stretches see the side of my right hand stranded in graphite fighting through the page raging through charcoal and other hauls see my calf muscle ripple as I down that dog and I can tell you this is the same thing there is space and it is filled if you’re thrilled by what it says then that’s fine but I’m thinking I’ll find a time when I’ll return to another sort of effort if I had the time and a hammer and all the raindrops in the world I would grow a green line of promise up to the sky I burned my thumb the other day trying to fry corncakes made of mistakes and very little else and I can tell you it was a mess I can tell you no test could have been passed with those results and this is what’s real but to feel that it matters is another sort of thing to go around pretending that everything I say is worth being conveyed would be absurd but if I don’t practice being heard or forming words then when the time comes I will hum to myself and the ship will sail the bird will quail and other sorts of failures will transpire I’m hiring a replacement and there’s space meant for company but in the meantime it’d be fine just to focus in a little I have sat at this desk all day and the list has gotten shorter but the window is still open and waiting for the wind to settle the rain to come inside the stars to turn out from the clouds and break loudly into night I will fight what I can’t explain with my own ideas I am startled to see such boldness I am anxious not to worry and I am tired with delight there is pleasure in the consideration in the fascination with thought I have brought an extra basket and I am carrying it around there are sounds but these are not the only things that matter there are scattered pieces of applause and a plow could hardly dig them up a cup could hardly hold them but when I gather my arms together I can guess and pretend what’s next and keep from neglecting otherwise directing thoughts what we’ve got is plenty and any more is nice too