Friday, January 20, 2012

justwrite 20 january

Let the cat have its day and if it chooses tomorrow then let it be so let me explode ink all over my hands lest the pristine land of an empty calendar block tip off with tocks and other such marks the dark comes again and the land is calm the bright is waiting but for now the fading is plain enough I’ll let you know and so it goes on into the fade the way on is easier there’s less attention and other costs to be paid I’ve played out this scene with dramatic flair and it’s easy to care when you’d rather not sit in the quiet wings while someone other sings onstage it’s all the rage to be the center but I’d rather just be on and on it goes supposing the cycle repeats itself a simple health twitch back to life and then being forgotten the knotten trees and their gnarly roots in cahoots with the ground below the way we grow upward and not in while the sinking and the swimmers count their chickens as they hatch a catch and release program we’ve planned to subscribe to but now as we see through the wire it’s time to retire such illusions if I thought I could get more out of less then I’d wait around and ask for a pass to such tests but it looks like that’s a no and so the simplest way to go is out there’s a trout stream and a salmon dream leaping rainbows through the air or the water and either way’s a choice easy to rejoice in what you settle for and while the ceiling’s drifting toward the floor I’m wondering what to be shooting for this is a question there is some lesson wrapped up in the otherwise but I’m tired of being the reacher tired of the bleachers and the cheering for the stars yes that thick prick of light is mars and the red gleam is a current dream of escape to another planet the way I scan it this line has no meter and the feet are waiting to get counted to see what they’ve amounted to and if I threw you off track will you counteract with dramatic pauses and incidental clauses stuck like gum to the hum underneath the words the scene we’ve played’s absurd and when the police come back I’ll tell it like it ought to continue and if that means there’s no you then it’s okay to play awhile with the other parts of the alphabet we’ve all got the right to write sweeter lines and to hear better rhymes or at least to chase something that’ll turn to embrace wanting to meet and not to leave wanting to smile not grieve a sieve of sorts and the training in straining is wearing me out but whatever’s left will really be something even if as I’ll guess it’s really just nothing

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