post 29 august

I am turning the other cheek into a peach counting a chicken as it catches a wave sittin’ on top of the world I have whirled a-rightround like a record baby right round left down blue foot right and left hand green what I mean to say is pretending not to care might just be the way to go there’s a show that goes on and a ground that gets stood upon and without doubts we crawl about easily for months and days the ways we find are natural the paths we pass by the doors we don’t try and these are the scenes we stage ourselves so who’s to tell what’s worth pursuing and who’s to say what I should be doing I have a list of the sort of I have plans to report but in the meantime the streamlined cannonballs are stalling out they’re catching trout at the Canadian end of the rainbow it’s a long show but on it goes the geese are fleeced but caught and released without too much trouble there’s no way to double down or up or back we lose such track it’s good we’re not trains I once was on one but now I remain unbound self-crowned I am taller than I remembered and in pictures this is levered somewhat against me as I brush against trees but the truth frees itself it’s a matter of health and the wealthy wise early risers breed feed read take heed and lean forward this is the kind of thing I say when I’m thinking about something too important to write out and so I write about its edges pressing up against the hedges and flailing out again if you know then so what and if you cut then what’s out the shouting goes on the laundry’s all wrong but the list won’t be missed just as long as these wrists keep together