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
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To be ‘ignited by the flames of others’ successes’ and neither snuffed or burned out, but to distribute flakes of ash as one passes.
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