justwrite 7 september

to plunder is to tear asunder with thunderous applause or dragging clauses pausing in mid-mindset recognizing the raging stage paging through the journals of low subscription pushing forward fiction of questionable content it seems we were not meant to be silent we have thoughts to be presented we heave pheasants once cemented into dusty tomes and hunting costumes out of their tweedy constructions and upward past obstructions of a most spectacular sort we’ve contorted our proportions and we’re purporting to have torn up all those earlier expectations I still trend toward fascination with language if you didn’t remember and yes still in December I’ll be here and the steering too clear to miss the tracks too clear toward bliss in icy conspiracy the theories floating in dustbitted air the bubbles that glare up through the glassy surface it’s worth what we’ve been working on to find some way to jerk along progress if the car won’t start and we all hold hands then the scandal will be lessened we’ll imagine all that stress and the pupils will run out their eyeballs all roll south for the summer but we have dreams and the seams aren’t too pressed though the battles all are dress in crisp relief the steady belief that form mandates content when really that’s indecent as a form of exposure who rests with such closure dangling out into the othersphere it’s certainly clear from this point of view that what must be true isn’t always and the scholars who pretend to defend the picnics from rain are ants who in vane lift leaves to deceive the tinier dwellers and while once there were fellers who knew what I was saying I must say it’s amazing how far off I go and the taller I grow the giraffier I am with my face closed by leaves and my feet unbelievably far still cannot play guitar and don’t like turtlenecks but for all that’s next I might have seen this coming humming along in crayony simplicity and widelegged kindergarten strength