Sunday, July 31, 2011

justwrite 31 july

the potential for dimensions springing forth and other seasons seized by the hand grandstanding the other please use the left please plumb those depths in a different corner I’ve got my hat I’ve bunched those dunces up and capped the whole confederacy a regulatory commission the opportunity to listen to myself to another elf bringing presents from the past and into the future too easy to seize upon clues and to use them to paint antiquated pictures that never had a present time is much too hesitant to descend to chronology acknowledging the rhythms we swim in and other senseless patter what’s the matter is my fingers are all tied up and also it rained the changes turning month to hour we have really so little effect or power in the window I haven’t packed I ought to have racked my brains and wrapped the remains but instead the trash waits the dishes shake their nonexistent heads always with the judging while laundry meanwhile budging but barely so and the awkward glow of tickets I’m not ready to use haughty with truth and inevitability the chilly fear that what’s here won’t be there and even if I care I can’t make a sunflower if I haven’t got the seeds really that’s not a metaphor I’ve stored up seeds but have eaten them and we have needs and we sweeten them with dreams to make them brighter our burdens could be lighter but how would we go on without challenges without mountains and other visual representations of difficulty to overcome for a mountain it’s not a problem it’s just self-realization and so it is with us so it is in each mirror a mountain and in each mouth a philosophy in each heart the echo of something to be said or once heard a secret earned and a promise kept leapt right to the end there didn’t I and didn’t leave much in the middle my handwriting looks awful now too but it’s easier to disguise on a keyboard we’re forewarned but to be forearmed is not to be since I’ve only got two

Saturday, July 30, 2011

justwrite 30 july

wanted to give a hand but then realized I’d need it back the ice cream doesn’t make sense the packaging is a disaster zoned in and out of reason the treasonous bindings finding no certainly closure the northern exposure and the wonderment of next steps the planning so scandalously undone we have taken from the givers we have sent to the deliverers and when you played those words I heard what you might have said instead I am red in the face with wondering with heavy breathing on a toolong course I’m not quite studying I’m not quite fast enough long enough but you’re right the tough stuff doesn’t quite suit me and it’d be easy to refute me and my streetlevel dialogue clogging up these literary veins the main thing is to be honest and with that in mind I’ve got a lot in mouth to spit out but I’m keeping it in for now letting the scenes play on screens with limited viewing and audiences in the singular senses who would want to imagine hoping when we see so many races ruined by doping there’s always something else to know there’s always a longlost card to show I’d forgotten to consider the list is getting bigger in the what-if section and the what-now dimension is waiting its turn burning midnight oilslicks the yellow jackets splashing in puddles befuddled by the muddled mirror everything could be clearer but that’s the one where I write the dialogues and you’d be surprised to find how clever we could all be if we’d just let me sit down and think before each normal dawning each certain circumstance yes I’d like to dance but I’d rather chance a few lines of fancy first just to be sure like a notebook page tinyfolded highlighted and bolded with a checkmark-ready box or two and the truth is pretty close to that but you’ve got data loaded up on alternative servers and we each deserve our own creative opportunities I’d hate to keep immunity from originality pressed down on your sleeping thoughts when you ought to be infecting others with that freeing disease weaving color and alternate arrangements across the stage sent directly for the purpose but if you’d like to join this circus I can imagine you’d get the part for a start that’s all I’m saying

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

justwrite 26 july

it’s not a serious thing to say but the warnings have been thrown out and your teeth are still safe there’s an eraser handy and a candycorn view of fall you knew had to have cranberries just nefarious truths in the current use of currants unhand them and demand them and whoever’s got the fridge oughta unplug those big lug jars the scars healed over on the lefterly knee and the references we are piling up might tile up a nice looking roof in truth nothing like saint stephens’ but really just us heathens and the chickens here we’re steering clear of jokes that poke straight in the eye but the highbrow rabblerousing that comes with honesty and space leads to a roundabout chase that could happen anyplace and rightnow seems even better just the weather transpired and the seasons got tired of waiting in line the fruit that’s mine is yours and the listmaking cures are up for condemnation there’s no need to face that nation at any designated hour and the power behind taking a nap and collapsing in ragout is a stew of its own design it’s a good find to my mind and maybe to yours but what’s sure is no asylum is needed no warnings to be heeded at this time at this chime of the bell museum a story unfinished here are my asides and if you show me yours I don’t think you’ve heard this one before and the store might be out of mutations but no need for frustrations just more adaptations with cleaner lungs not quite expunged but fresher with berries and documentaries with startling premises and bighatted nemises our peace treaties signed with underlined leaves the juice that makes the world go round the promise found in art and the hearts found in people we’ve decided to leave them there we’ve decided not quite to swear but at least to consider prompts of promises of threads of ideas let’s twist them together and see what hope ropes in or what twine is mined there are metaphors and metayours but metamine and sleepytime make a gorilla museum out of noseeum jokes stoked but stayingcalm keepingcool no need to fool honesty because how could we and anyway no laughing at the godfather more apologies for chronologies and I like how this is going where the this is not the writing but the pleasantwise goodnighting

Monday, July 25, 2011

justwrite 25 july

down on the corner where the light goes out where the tide steps about for a nightcap and tips it doffs it if you will to the lady on the pavement crooning at the moon she used to have a tambourine but left it in another scene the will to live to give to shiver in the cool air while waiting for someone to offer a ticket elsewhere it’s not fair but why should it be and how could it be any other way we play but we pay our dues we tie our shoes tight enough we try not to always fight the bluffs just let them blow by let the bright sky turn dark with embarrassed reflections the stars and their connections tell stories in tabloids the glories of nursery plumbers and the crew we thought we knew they rented bicycles and left for the afternoon one Thursday and they never came back we had a plan of attack for how to proceed but I can’t say I need more thought on that one it was a clear-cut case of absolute waste the sandwiches packed left untouched as clues on the old stone wall by the park the part where the train tracks ran out of time and climbed into ivy driving themselves into abstraction the collection of cadillacs and heart attacks all along the gobbledygook were waiting for crooks to steal them but no one thought we’d feel the aftershocks down the blocks and around the corner everyone’s a mourner but some of us still live everyone’s a foreigner but some of us share tongues we are hung up on our own cleverness the further bliss we find behind our own mirrors seeing clearer than the view the truth we set free on our own the tomes we compose while flushing the toilet the dialogue we write in the sleepless night preparing to do battle with the rabble of the next day the mainstays of the economy the rulers of the world wondering and waiting for our clues checking our shoes for indications of the new creations we will inspire before we retire at the distant end of unimaginable days we stay and we teach others to reach and our magnitude grows the heavier the load we can heft the less that’s left to offer elsewhere but we don’t care we are the imaginers of ourselves and the satire left to the elves to divine is lying fine and quiet on the other side of the door and what’s more it’s safer left alone

Sunday, July 24, 2011

justwrite 24 july

as the days pass there are cash advances entranced across the floor the entrance fee paid and waylaid on the way to someone else’s pocket the cases in the docket will never get cleared a clean desk is feared like a razor without teeth or did I mean a comb either way it’s home for now and the sacred cow sings its moon-eyed song to an applesauce battalion we meant to cook we had great designs we were doing fine before the sense kept falling out of the bottom I climbed a tree but the top was wrong and too high in the sky for the gliders the great dividers I’m sorry I’m falling asleep in the deep gaps between gaffs we thought we had a plan but in scanning the lines I find we’re sorting out the wrong sorts we’ve purported to defend the money we’ve lent to misguided robbers we slobber over our own misdeeds while feeding the zoos with the higher truths there’s a secret that I’m getting to but it clearly isn’t getting through these spaghetti-clogged pipes these cholesteroled veins lamely weaving in and out of traffic the graphic organizers not quite clear enough we’ve steered past bluffs rockier than those the pirated coves kept secretly covered we hovered like lovers too close to the door the snores were too much but it’s a softhearted touch to imagine that tragedy could go differently when I was done running today that’s when the story started and I can’t imagine such an oddly parted tale except right here where I have to tell it and if you’d like to know I’ll tell you so you’re not in the dark but it’s an odd place to park such a factual tract and not much would grow anyway so let’s play along with different sounds and build around those sorts of details knowing what’s entailed won’t make you smarter or even more attractive rather like the opposite the deposits of bits of knowledge that were edited out of colleges too much for your own good too neighborly for your own hood and this is when I realize the time I consider the crimes in these films the godfather fills such hours with cowards and with heroes but with the ones and the zeroes adding up it’s hard to tell what the program will be if the catch and release program has repatriated any more confederates or mostly just dunces and if I had my druthers I’d wonder what they were and I’d probably keep them outside on a long leash just to let others tangle themselves and stay well out of my way thisaway the right way as some say where some play by my rules the right ones as the sun sets on british petroleum the wrong initials but everything else okay so they say

Saturday, July 23, 2011

justwrite 23 july

if babies weren’t so sweetfaced we’d already be replaced permanently displaced by something cuter oh an ode to babies and yes we owe no maybes to that tinyfooted step effortlessly adept at bossing the bosses flossing reasonable people through tiny chubstub fingers wrapping crowns around their pink little pinkies fat like twinkies and just as stuffed with unpleasant stuff today my friend’s child so strawberry mild and happycheeked she is cooing and I don’t mean the baby there are songs spreading across the static and it’s a dynamic force of course there are more a winning score out in force on the streets this afternoon brought out by the sun by strollers and grandmothers skeptical older brothers and fathers who swagger slightly yes I made this happen adapting circumstances all around them these tiny gods survey their territory not always pleased occasionally diseased by unexplainable afflictions possibly disgust when lust for all they desire misfires into tantrums some fun they ought to be having forbidden by the underlings the giant beings who do their bidding while the pink and blue chariots are drawn along the promenade the people bow they tuck their chins to their chests and agree this is the most precious child this is the sweetest little girl the cutest little boy and it’s all one can do to keep from making comparisons to pets but certainly this wouldn’t be heard of surely you don’t understand and it’s true I don’t I never had a dog either never had a cat never had a baby got no maybes to display in this chart just all heart and no cooing no blowing kisses and calling precious and this seems fine wonder if I’ll cross that line someday that makes me want to rush out and play this game but just the same for now from a distance there’s no need for resistance just a pleasant nod at the otherwise occupied as they float by in their multicolored boats floating right on track sorry I’m just swimming thisaway and there’s a somethingelse I ought to do I’ll catch up with you somenever but surely wish you well all the same