justwrite 19 april

Which is probably why I like words instead of pictures except for the images strung along and stuck within the thin lines of text what’s next best is the space between the waiting for the fall of a syllable or a sound that resounds roundly like the echo of a peach on a sound stage we are caged in our bodies but not in our minds and we find ourselves turning away from the other and toward the self though I can only speak for me it’s a free ticket and I’ve got plenty just a night of that sort and a courted silence while the cars splash by I am on the third floor and what’s more I will not be moved I will be trothed and halved but never had never kept I leapt once and will do so again as the hand that ought to take grabs itself in mistake and hurries confusedly away I am playing myself in this drama and it’s a pretty good depiction if you keep in mind the restrictions which are enough to call the bluff of any amateur if I eat more I can run better I can go farther but the thicker results catapult backward from the starting line sometimes feeling fine and looking well are far apart the start of the matter is the hatter and his madrigals the ticket sails itself through the curtains and I’m certain I’m ready for the next script if I could only just collect it from wherever it’s been drafted the island on which it rafted up ready for dessert