justwrite 18 december

It’s a holiday a-brewin’ and the somethingother brewing is hard to diagnose you’d have to be comatose not to notice but again the hocus pocus snatches off my focus and I’m adrift lifting some spirit yes and deflecting stress like a test hard-pressed to coalesce into reason there are treasonous thoughts streaming aroundabout dreaming and we are no doubt leaning in the right direction but there’s some corrections to be made and the scene may not be saved with superficial edits and if the credits start to roll then there’s nothing to be done an island in the sun and other weezer songs for singalong crash easily over the walls calling out for attention we are the makers of new dimensions we are the careeners through careers and the steerers through what’s clear the ink the mud the puddles the blood befuddled conversations and easygoing designations the use of labels is generally unstable in this day and age in this time of rage and of machines of secrets and caffeine in the latenight in the darkbright the early morning dawns unexpected with ragged edges and promises of some deeper sleep just beyond reach I can’t breach the soundtrack I can’t read the score and the glory of some other scenario is playing out next door around the corner and under the bridge could it be so simple and why must we with dimples beam out welcomes in odd directions seeking beacons and brushing off deacons I’m sorry to have to tell you if you were a tree they’d fell you and maybe that’s that but to catapult forward I am backward in my schemes the unraveling of dreams and interpretation of various stations the public radio the fading out of sense when I’m scanning down this list and crossing off with quickflicked wrist via quickbic pen then again to start again to go off into the elsewise whitherwhere it’s easy to star out the window and to watch the lights go out but if that’s what I’m writing about then it must be time to stop