Dear tomorrow it’s me again and I’m hoping you’re well I’ve been thinking about you know you’ve been a bit under the weather with all of those plans getting changed rearranged estranged from reality and tied back up it’s amazing how you’re getting on and I’d like to know what the view looks like from there how everything’s settling out so where are you living and what do you do and is it as fine as you imagined to still be alone still I know I know there are plenty of people all through the day but does coming home to a quiet night still sit quite right with you and truly are you happy and when you check your shelves how many bindings bear a known name is it still the same view do you find true happiness in your runaround merrygo I am looking forward to getting together but there just never seems to be time there are places to people to here we are again but I’m thinking of you and heading your way and I wish us both the best
Friday, April 27, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
justwrite 26 april
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
justwrite 24 april
A dapper dawn dandily dressed like lions full of pride there are too many puns to avoid stumbling over the trundlebed handmedown compound words are another herd that go trampling along and it’s hard to be strong enough to resist those sounds when the sun goes down and the moon goes up there’s a cup full of redorange juice and a bowl full of buckwheat that’s a sweet scene if you mean what I know that’s the view from here and it’s clear enough to say I’m far enough away from sense that I might as well reschedule I might as well pretend those calendar pages will rotate any which way I navigate I’m telling you there are owls in the barn I’m wondering how the door will ever close and that face I was given today well I hope she takes it back there are too many worries to hurry past there are too many cheetahs to try to outlast and every time up I pick up a magazine I become someone else two days ago I planned to become a real runner not like I am not but and how or nothing like doubt today I am a writer ignited by the flames of others’ success and what’s next is nothing but net or some other rack of glossy pages the stage is set so easily it’s a breezy conversation with myself as I toast the health of my next endeavor which I’ll truly treasure even as it drops on the list even as I flick my wrists in beckoning the next big thing the cover story the easy glory and the sandstone blowaway the praise and the crazy wide angles I’m trying to handle this trying to showcase bliss in the moment and I tone it I own it and I edit it all away
Monday, April 23, 2012
justwrite 23 april
Although the urge to start in the middle of a sentence is strong I’m resisting it I’m splitting it like adam’s atom anatomically correct and direct down the middle we’re fiddling with our wonder and plundering the odds I’ve scrambled enough eggs for that theory to have legs and eat them too the frogs and the inspiration the backtalk and the condensation if I quit everything else I could run every day I could fold into the couch with a cool cloth and closed curtains a certain sort of debilitation cancelling out all conversation all casting calls stalled no one’s being hired on this short list it’s a stork a fist and a shopping cart all in the middle of the room so round ‘em up and count to the top it’s a roving sort of command and if you land before you fly then there’s better luck next time get on up and do that get flat and flattered we matter and we take our cues from useful sources we ride our own invisible horses let’s take turns let’s earn what we keep let’s leap over curbs the absurd way we plunk goals down front when we could just be eating corn from the can and shaking hands with space the race to get to the end of the designated lane the parking the quarking and all the missing science the defiance in faces the waste of the chases for the steeples when we find they’re sitting still and the people all inside yes I’ve seen that scene before and I’ve been six as well let’s smell the air and catch up what’s for dinner downstairs unaware it’s always onions and the stunning exchange rate makes me crave whateverelse other than the table’s own suggestion let’s teach ourselves lessons and follow them too while we woo our better futures and tempt them with likelihood we’re being good and smiling large in separate columns and yes I kept running up that hill today which plays in my mind plenty more dramatically than reality allows in this version cows turn to watch in wonder and my face isn’t as red
Sunday, April 22, 2012
justwrite 22 april
Having written them I cannot fail to believe in their authenticity these twins these girls with the pink hats they are standing side beside the monkey bars and though each is the exact height of the other yes identical and not fraternal and in fact related to each other and not to some other mirror pair waiting across the street with puzzled expressions eating ice cream from inside a restaurant with a glass wall and stools you can sit on at the counter and look out as you spin spin your mess all over your face but these are yes the girls and they cannot help but try and as one lifts the other up I am wondering why there are no steps there are no ladders on either end just smooth poles with peeling yellow paint quaint but not quite functional for these two and they switch and the other one tries Amelia with the greater heft takes what’s left of the energy from morning tea’s sugar and the half cookie she found in her coat pocket earlier and tries to heave ho but still nothing and the two are stuck earthbound uncertain of how to proceed but unwavering in their goal even as they walk away this too shall stay not quite golden or green but the scene has all the makings of literature years will pass and the meaning will be clear having created these two girls and this peeling paint I am obliged to trust in their reality the sense that they can take care of themselves and can be trusted with existence which if you think about it is really quite a lot to have to deal with
Saturday, April 21, 2012
justwrite 21 april
Thinking about falling asleep with my eyes full I am closed for the moment the day zones in and out of time and the rhymes are too rich to waste on still-soaking laundry it’s trying its own time it’s weighing its own way home while the bathroom clock keeps ticking and the magnets pull open the fridge we’ve got lids on so no worries and the eggs are more or less still blurry in the car-alarm fireworks and the ensuing static the dramatic smoke that cracks the shells of more patient vehicles the chills come through and the salamanders you once saw waiting on the rock are now docked in elsewise pockets we are telling all of the stories today and we cannot close our open mouths our minds finding defining reasons the changing seasons multiply themselves while the healths of many nations are tossed into the popcorn maker spitting out chance through the 80’s brown plastic chute we’re certain to recreate this memory and the name may sure be lost but I have got significant bits of fluff stuffed in there it’s unfair to shorten the schedule but it’s hard to untangle the strands holding hands we find we are ourselves to blame and the iridescent shame that stripes my face while the students come a-begging makes me turn away makes me set aside the curtain and hurtle toward the exit not what anyone signed on for or up nor the dotted lines neither either fine we are casting off that net and not with the meaning of catching something else just a safe and healthy escape from the fences we lace ourselves
Friday, April 20, 2012
justwrite 20 april
If I had known how late it would be now when I started then I would have made a prediction would have caused eviction to be tossed out on its own head instead like a salad crooning accidental ballads I am tired of firing off cannons and receiving no boom there’s a swoon somewhere in the distance and the flatness I’ve been running over has hardly been a field of clover but let me tell you this I can read magazines too and the feeling that you can do this is pressed within the pages the jargon all the rages we have come by this honestly and also these pounds I’m around that number too and the truth is hard to cross over the bridge is easy to pass under but if I could only sleep and if I could manage to keep these secrets tight and warm I’d realize they were blank I’d open up the tank and look at my reflection tossed back at me in droplets jigsawed apart in tired angles we are confused you say and I point out how I’ve given my style elsewhere and that I am draining toward night you don’t take these excuses which is to your credit but I hardly regret it and would rather say something than hum without sound there’s a resounding amount of echo hear I said you said she said