31 january

honestly creativity is one i'd need to see more of the floor of the fauna the door of the sauna heated up the window written with words and pictures absurd in the clearly defined and unlinear nature the whirr of bees in the treasonous business of honeycombing the roaming of spider webs the easy treble clefs we've leapt over and under in the basest of reasons our seasons have endings but pretending they are now will hardly make the living lighter -- brighter to the sky and higher to the wire like the tighter rope to fly and the thicker goose to try out for an alarm clock listening to the morning adorning a wester coast a chance for remote to change a channel to arrange itself whether the numbers are the same or the keys get all estranged in the oddest of all ways -- and i've played those roles before and i've opened many doors just to find more waiting down the hall and extending corners, the silent mourners shaking their heads -- even as we've read the obituaries, even as we've traced the tributaries: where do we start versus where we end up are all kinds of parking lots to drive through and talk out like doubts circled in highlighter and declared and i'm scared and i'm willing but the billing gets top treatment though there's plenty of fees spent on the admission just to stare down at your feet: get up while dancing's easier and watch the sky expand in treats of wonder - easy as the starry blunders trial and error the circles of light, the dark and the night, the morning and white-faced sandwich calendar with guts all wondering open and the pages flipping wild -- just a flapping bird unhinged and the months weeks days compiled in a random flood of minutes that no one can hold quite down as the seconds drip from hours and the lights flick out in town

30 january

even as the odds rise it's a quiet place to turn still / let me call you sweetheart / let the records break and the mountains climb molehills / chill and release as the tumblers clink and the ice thinks things through: true enough! the bluff is called and the listener glistens (mine is not to wonder why the words are said the palms are read the dark is night enough for me) let us all rejoice and sing from different books the easy cooks and far-off scenes (trampolines and springboards as the clocks run on past 5) we are all alive and camping through the daybreak fire brigade as the apple orchard picks itself first place in the fall parade: queen and princess at the carnival and blossoms in the spring - all the seasons for the vegetables and the seeds with packets strings and catalogs (the backlog from some other decade overplayed and under-researched) plenty of hurt and other good songs - we are the wrong that could have been righted - we are the books that cannot be knighted - i meant to say that story was great - i meant to tell you of some other fate but the words kept pooling and the tongue mischose the lines to connect them i thought to redirect them but let me say there are other ways to play along the strongest thoughts caught in the net should be shaken free and the takeaway is thankful and well worth and to reassert there's no need but indeed a pleasure just to measure those spaces those unbuckled laces tied occasionally in bows to suppose the whatifs and the hownows had cousins of maybesos and even though the haze lays thick there are no tricks to see the now blank filled no worries what's willed or wilting into building blocks to tickle anyone's anywhen clocks

29 january

keep me honest. ten minutes and in it to the end there are extended circumstances to dance around in to abound and expound upon the wrong side of the bed the back wide and unfed the kettle drum the ramparts and other sides of the castle stormed by norms and performance anxiety: so much piety and no one is humble! so much power and still such a mumble! we have skills and we cannot share them out loud -- too proud for an overbear, too shrouded in underworn raincoats and underthroated sighs (ours are not the reasons why -- ours are all the hours flying in the face of reasons: keep us please from marveled treasons fed from darn unraveled pleas and thanks and outer banks of mission statements -- waking tents and closing parentheses in natural surroundings) hounding the dogs on the banks and clanking around the the speakers of the house: mister g, tear down the wall! ali g oxen free: come one, come all! we are all the answers to our parents' wandering eyes! we are all the guesses that we could have better disguised! let me play a different tune while sergeants march and pickles prune: we are each the choristers the barristers the temple scribes~ know us before we arrive and we will dance the waltz with you! we will tie your running shoe so you can make your grand escape before the sun has turned too late and all the walls have come undone... leave me now to turn unstrung and i will unhook as i fall - as the evening cannon ball imagines scenes from civil wars and calendars of colonial doors: these are the things i can do without (come on) - the balking from views and the easyclose truths are the science i can't take when the baked eggs break (where has all the boiling gone?) (when were carrots metal?) these are all the paragraphs and this is how a muffin laughs - this is how the fox grows even as its tail blows answers in the wind, the growling that begins as a smile in a throat and the boat that is your abdomen hoping for the best rowing with no arms but will in no water but air - compared to seas there's something to be seen and in this scene there's a developing current unnamed but mapping as a warming trend a map i'd lend a marker to darken the greenstream it so seems and so themes admirable indeed from this angle well pleased

28 january

from the floor the ceiling is farther than the sky and the music sets up right to turn through rather than on or off: listen or don't and i will go about my own scene - drift on your own stream and i will swim anyway there are currents and also trends but in the deep end handstands are less demanding than in those shallow pools though who can see you sticking toes through the air yes the care apparent the stare is wearing thin and the boats don't float close enough for rescue - you guess true enough: there's a bluff to be called by a willing listener and a lunch to be tossed like so many salad ballads (why for the beckoning? easy enough on reckoning even as the fridge refrates, takes the cake and eats it too) wild like glue in the sticky steps adept at licking lips and forgettting to swallow whole flocks like a tooling box that has no nails even as the sails don't catch the wind won't bet and the curtain's won't call - i will fall even as you turn - away as the night comes up the dark burns - line breaks marked as the yards get hashed - bag goes in as the junk gets trashed - but also there will be introductions - also conjunctions replaced like and for but - no one likes chocolate which everyone does - gut is the reaction is the skillset that i have - even as the phone rings there's a smile to be logged - clogged like a couch where the rest of the plans went - when i leave i will still water the plants --- water the plans instead and grow them -- why wait on anyone anyone why wonder on the rightround record no deal why pause for applause why pock those lips why peck those chips why chocolate that festival why salad those days why come when called i am busy with real so real and anyway what's the question

27 january

dark white and the light's fantastic enough to see by the easy pie breaks apart in split pieces the catch and release is an easy system for people but the fish pull back and track their sprints catch the glints of their scales as they measure their paces imagine the races they might be running when suddenly they're sunning themselves unaware their healths are being toasted roasted with vegetables uncrossed are the thoughts that they never had feet in the first place and in the worst way they'd imagined seeing africa and the traffic there is minimal on some days but the plains states of the USA have their own graces for saying and saving and this is the way the table is laid and this is the way the napkins are splayed for dinner dates or fancy plates like thanksgiving but getting back to the fish it cannot be missed in the general sense although the dreams that were floating were caught in remote chances the dances of a thousand bubbles the korbel factory tour easily scored with classical waltzes in the promotional videos and however they may know the scoffer in the back of the line the feeling fine unwined diner has something of a reminder to say the play of the day again no catch this one's a pass this one's a fail this one's a market selling a boat without a sail there are oceans aplenty and sauces without dishes but the weather at the table is a beauty without misses we have made our own mistakes and we will have our own rewards but the pictures that develop are the scenes in fine accord

26 january

while the premise is factual the story will be fictional. all of the characters are real. the character named in the title will be joseph c. this is his real name. indications are that he is not joseph conrad although there is no certainty about whether this is or his not his actual surname. the only likely certainty is that he is not the actual author of heart of darkness and other such works. that the evocation is certainly evocative in a literary sense cannot be denied. the scene is a restaurant. the day is a sunny day. it is not a sunday. it is a saturday. this is both possible and true. brunch is served on both days. truly brunch is served every day. only on one day in this particular establishment is brunch served through the particularly engaging situation that is a buffet. this is not that day. that day is sunday. this day is satuday. a sunny day. the lack of buffet indicates the increased importance of a waiter. enter the title character. the indication of the importance of this character will be indicated to the reader by his appearances in the title after the style of a russian short story. the ending will not be tragic although it will not be magical. there will be no firebird. there is a fireplace in the restaurant although it will not be lit during the course of the story. it's brunch. fires are not always for brunch. there is an indication here that a fire is somewhat lit. the diners discuss this. there are two diners at this table. a two-top. the author has heard this lingo at some point. the author is uncertain of the authenticity of this lingo and will not repeat it. two diners converge and converse, one with child. to clarify, with a child who has already been born. so many words and so much to mean. the diners discuss whether the waiter is lighting a fire. one head shakes, one head nods. potential for vicarious living. potential for denial of potential. potential for pretending that something else is going on instead on some other front. potential for flickering. potential for doughnuts. potential for stopping before starting. potential for potential. potential for paying the bill. potential for tip. potential for leaving a number for joseph c. title character. story potential. begin.

25 january

even in the dark there's a lighter load to bear up to whistle down there are nonsense words aplenty when you bushel apples by the score and conduct your business by the haypenny money cents and rapid fire makes the marsh mellow enough to sink your toes into your snow's see-proof and what that means is anyday dreams are easycome true it's as simple as you can wish and the fish you eat when you climb out of sleep when you're finished with a run in a memory that might be a dream in a half-hearted shrug that slips like a stream through an album that hurts to entwine through an attic that mines too many gold hearts and stars and blue moons all the same flavor in a recent revelation that's the froot loops story in all its gory details flailing around in milk spilling out and crying the crayons the sensitivity i have got a proclivity for telling you my secrets where you are the one listening and i wish for the best and the rest of the day i play it out i trickle down doubts into no other streams into anywise themes there's no comfort there so where and why and the try is the error it's kafka it's the trial it's the shore it's the mountain it's a fountain of allusion it's the truth in confusion and i have lost interest in food but the rudest part of worry is the sense of falling farther and the carving of the pumpkin facing in without the track without the suit without the useful pieces seeds and all the call and all the answers i am checking off the boxes let me stop and start again as the roll down hill continues deeper breaks and breaths and even keels the wheels are hard to hold but the bridge is something manageable the cannon balls will call their own bluffs and even barns can stand it abandoned and homeing the owls hay and all the musty stalls and cats and bats and dan deacon songs from nowhere sudden the pretty lights aurora wild borealis styled and all those dreams those teeth so cleaned in west northwestern yes

24 january

where the rain starts the grass grows and the blow goes on the row boats and the wind floats let me tell you there's a storm and if i've seen it before i've seen it once i've seen the door unlocked and i've searched for a key there are trees that bend and there are schemes that aren't pyramids but still the building goes on and there are wrongs to write out let me trout that stream i too fish america and i hold out my hand on no demands and no waiting i'm plaiting long hair and staring too wearing for the saving of funds unstrung too fast to cast a net too unsteady to bet on cards i don't hold but if you asked me there's a tree posing again and a scandal unheld no welding no waiting no overflow debating i am off again scoff again and i will tell you who's about to quit tell you who has had yes it and more and the store is full but the shelves are empty the candy's sticky but the sugar's plenty i can't have teeth that will not work and the soda fountain's got a soda jerk if you ask me task me and i will get it done but there may be other shifts to fill if i were not the one there is no one indispensable is the message learned today there is no one unentrenchable with no other bills to pay there are tracks and there are trains and those great wide-open plains are just hoping for the call-out and the fill-up for to go

23 january

and replaces but with a different kind of thinking while the sinking swims the sounds within get pushed and the swoosh of a different sort contorts resorts to the last the cast of a thousand amontillados the wind blows and poe knows the song you want to sing he rings in the new year with blue cheer and a settled gaze it's all the rage when you lose your footing but really who's putting one in front of the other that's what i want to know and the rabbit's got its hole but where's my life and who drinks my lemonade who works while i get paid who cleans while i'm the maid there are renegades and funk and i am packing up the trunk to get my fill to pay the bills and go to the dentist i won't resent this unless the shift is a false one it's a true sun that shines every day and i've got to say the weather's been good and you should take notice you should hocus that pocus but only if you want to only if you come true so that same use is multi that same pretzel salty and i am conditioned i am so listening to the new sounds but we're bound to have opportunities and i will be glad to freeze briefly if that means the melt continues toward the good shift the eclipse and onward toward yes

22 january

meanwhile the turnstile is jumped the old whiles are lumped into easy piles to dump and to save and the maid takes one while nobody's looking it's an easy goose for cooking while the gander takes a peak sticks a beak in it (who's to seek and find mined ores?) mine or yours to explore, all for the timing - easy on the rhyming, chiming in at sink or swim intervals, shouting out doubts like traffic signs - red lights and high brights beaming rejection with steadystream protection: do not ask me to feel! when real is something easier when real could be immediate an open gate to walk through to talk truth to lay on the floor and name the words to talk about ideas and not fear the absurd to imagine new vegetables and explode across grains the main things and the tributaries sharing's not impossible improbable as open may appear the way is clear if the willing wants the sun grows the day shows the way and even the rain will have something to add once it changes its mind from snow

21 january

pause for the flaws and the intrigues that set apart a character from a citizen begin again to define the lines that draw the curtains (pay no attention behind) before the door the stage the scene the set ta-da tap dance and any other chance would smell as well the name to spell with letters littered though mail boxes the pale watches with grieving numbers and hopeful nurseries giving birth to these imagined tragedies and festering brilliances all the deliverance and all of the joys the girls and the boys and the any other wonders the curious blunders of opportunities that blinded us from immunities from protection -- we wanted to learn some lessons but we kept on teaching ourselves from the wrong books the old crooks with the right hooks the left jabs and the easy grabs for attentions: where have all the fictions gone in the strung-along realities the glad-handed mystery trains of scripts we dipped from, clipped the lips from and asked for songs - we are wrong to imagine hope will keep showing up with an empty bucket and describing its contents in multicolored joy (here are the black beans and here is the corn) bright in the evening and dark in the morning easy as the sunrise and tired as the storm trying to turn the pages, to rattle the cages and whistle through the guinea pigs the sidetrap taps and other illusions confusions and overwhelming profusions of references in deference to those who've gone before and what's less than more is we stand on their shoulders the giants and that's why we see it's a real good quote and there's a remote chance you clear done recognized it just bit by partly and i'm heartily glad you've done so because after this there is no

20 january

pondered plunder under the covers spun around like a nap grounded in the take-off stage the filtered page turn unearned and burned off like coffee beans steamed too soon and the room to grow thrown off a wicked cough that can't be cough due to a sudden cable car run by a vagrant monkey bar that skipped the track and wandered back to an unknown scene a scintillating meme too soon for its time too old for its rhyme too young for its pleasure the measures without end and the darkness without friend when the cues must be spelled out the steps must be taped down with subtle crowns and swords drawn rewards fawned over and lucky clover but who am i to tell that script its next scene those easy green arrangements are salad enough to toss though the bossiest of dressings are the messiest enough of lessons: i am listening and so i should; the door is open and so it would be if the standing there continued on -- i'd close it from a different angle and we'd turn together to sleep

19 january

space to create to debate to clean a slate a plate club full of empty a tank to bank on a left coast a west most excellent and independent this is the change full of piggy bank tails waving craving more of a story booked with four floors and no waiting dating no calendars full and three bags the nina and the pinta and the socks gone missing but nobody listening i've got to say the glistening doesn't matter more than any other wonder just a plunder made of minutes and within it there's a centering a mentoring of mind undefined and waiting for the growth of hope to come undone a glad unraveling the traveling together in weather of any sort deported from desks and messed-up time unwinding clocks locked in step unchecking boxes too toxic for the meter defeating defeaters of deaf ears and listening now yes ready to hear to do to be right here all in right now

18 january

owed to a migraine


nothing

17 january

somewhere behind the curtain there are certain questions we don't ask, tasks we don't want to perform -- what if someone sees and the applause is too great? the fear too clear to be discovered -- what if the marvel too carved in fame to name is the greatness that cannot be spoken: if this is shown then it cannot be unknown. to be wanted and acknowledged, to be needed and admired -- even in the fired-up spaces of ten thousand kiln embraces, this is the answer that burns pot-sides and tiles and easyglide anythings harder to break: every single mistake is a step in a learning direction -- all those shattered corrections are the ballots in some election that the others forgot to vote in, that dank closet i left my coat in while the kitchen was on fire and the elephants were leaving though the soup was still not done... even as the mysteries are waiting to be moved from the fiction to the non and the sections skip their grooves, let us catalog the wonders and the answers that we seek: who's the dentist? where's the doctor? is there something with my teeth? if i start again at this point, we'll be lost before we're through -- forward i will tell you that we'll be back sooner than front, just as the answers hurry the questions along even as i close my mouth around the questioning mark itself curving my lips around the curlicue and then stopping to pop and purse on the dot bam! how's that for a question making its mark?

16 january

with a changed view it's a window or a wall a door or a floor a ceiling or a revealing entry an exit or a next fit for the way home the road away the place to stay the wonder where the how to compare the when with the why the reasons and the try the fit and the fall the catch and the ball the release and the feast the famine and the pearl the duke and the earl balance so simple the iron and the wrinkle flattened like a steak brick like an oven eggs like a dozen monkeys like bananas fruits like flies babies like cries even as the daylight dies the moon comes up and the night wins out doubt has none space has plenty sky goes on songs sing sung high hangings hung ranking rings rung out to dry trout like streams of water the sons and daughters of matching families the catching remedies unavailable at grocery stores the tours of duty like moody blues and unrecorded grooves wild-eyed wonders and high-hat horses picked out of rings like masters unenforced there are miles and the mild taco sauces can't be broken there are bosses but the wild chocolate tosses have misspoken for the swings can go too high and the dreams will be forgiven but the monkeys still get barred and the slides must still go down let us make our angled plans while asparagus is cooking for the pot is much too pretty for the dinner guests to see and the bonsai tree is planted where the gardener won't notice so the chef will have to take care in between our rounds of tea

15 january

set the goal and the posts look -- what, closer? far? one hundred yards and arms away like buckets full of sand to make an ocean of devotional sayings -- weighing in like audience members voting in and out of numbers, blundering up and down the aisles: this is me and here are my trials! loud-mouthed busybodying wondering how the garden grows more than what the reflection shows -- set those standards and close my eyes, loosen the neck and tighten the tie. can't help the cake if you don't like the pie. what is the reason and where is the why?

even as the line breaks, the same mistakes repeat themselves. dreams on the shelves and days at the desk, passing the test and upping the buck: promotion to the next level that takes the same balance beam to walk, a day to talk and a night to listen -- glistening wink and a flash in the sink too fast to swallow to shallow to drink (what would you think if i threw it all away and ran to the west with the hand of a guest well-matched with the best of intentions? too lazy here to mention what the where or why the when sends thoughts swift-reeling but easy feelings say away looks so much fresher) the measures clear for measure and the pages take off landing all the tanks go on expanding as the sky extends away --

let's imagine opportunity and what this ought to mean : are there apples and bananas and will we know when we have seen all the chances for the merrygo with the sailing toward away or will the roundabout come and pick us up when we ever choose to play?

14 january

the space between all in and balance - the eggs in the basket or juggled / who is how to tell the recipe the solution the mix and match and coupons cashed in (sinking swimming and the chords are wrong) let me pick the dress to wear and i'll go home to catch the train - even as the route unravels i'll take my shoes off and feel the grass: let me wonder as i wander, knowing as the moon comes up - there the path and here i go, choices made and windows open - seasons sun and lakes afield -- winter wild in easy whimper listening in the tired pillow / waking from a year of burrowed waiting for a different day -- this is now and still the same day wakes the next up after each tomorrow comes: breaking desks and seeming simmer toward what end as threads are cut (can they true so fast be sliced?) -- is this day spent as a last one? how should notes be left in order - what stack of which to leave behind, what wishes stacked make days combined in stacked-up plays for nonsense accomplishments and checked-off lists to twist out such shouts of silence in opposition to chorus of glorious wonder -- the what-if bliss of hope

13 january

1.1. in the car to work

My home plants are dying but my office plants are swell... Whether it's the watering or my presence it's the withering essence of myself I watch developing, underdeveloped enveloping me... The mirror image of my days, the ways I mean well the mean swell of the waves as they carry the calendar pages away...

2.1. night gym

black keys - not quite a ticket to ride / don't care : baby will you flee with me?

things i love: lyrics that fit the right curve of a thought bought out of space and time in the dark. pulling down weights heavy and strong and i am the inchargest of this scene until i let go so slow and know i am choosing to. lunch invitations. a hallway that smells like a turkey dinner when it isn't thanksgiving and the thought of the neighbor dog running in circles two doors down mad with delight. chances to realize brightness that has appeared to you, focusing on the stillbrilliant even as the flame is reported out. coming new truthness, fresh and tender, delicate in its growth. shared plans and blueprints or greenprints or mirages of any other color that smell as sweet - columns of othersort imaginings -- scatterings of wonder in reflection. steps that rhyme. sweat that's earned. recipes waiting for company and finally meeting the table. the road and on and on

12 january

why wait why set aside time when the clock strikes faster as the list grows long? there are times but not much as the days lose touch and the minutes disappear -- even seconds filter finishes and mishmash candles melt when the value is invisible and there's nothing to be felt: where have all the reasons gone? where's the wonderwhy? brilliant gone and cut too soon -- lost star from the sky / even as the tumbledown rigamarole trickles pickles in the potted plants -- who chances such a schedule? who worries thoughts like those? suppose the fade continues and the lake swallows one whole or two swollen dreams three screams forward and five bored days a week seeking escape to take the cake to live in the house that jack built where this means nothing and more or less is another guess: to start afresh is an easier mess to scramble -- the tastier eggs to ramble from and crumble numb toes too tightly tied to run from to hum bumblebees to sleep while the deep end fills and the shallow splash about (don't doubt they mean well -- they can't spell but they do their best, they pass the tests and play the pipes along the nights as rats follow them home! the rolling stones and moss and all will follow up the curtain calls as we will slip away!) fade to green and flash to blue the sky a trial run with crew and set amazing yet the mountains last to rise : expected yet surprising nonetheless an easy guess to crash the clouds as loud as any earthy face should open the sun in yawning fun a laughing run toward spring where anything looks better and the weather might as well though it's always hard to tell how the parking lots get caught up in the mild higher climates / i will cast my lot and find it though it's hard to see what's hooked and while any cook could do it i must say that raw might fly

11 january

feeling of falling as catching up seems too far from the other side of the fence to see to seek the greener pasture the natural disaster the coming thing as branches out doubt their own rewards at the end : pretend delights and half-hearted lights in smiles with miles to go before the sleep that darkens the night for good with understood expectations that fade as soon as they are met and yet the longterm wonderment is sent on its way as soon as another strand unravels to travel is the thing but so is longdistance jumping and so is healthy cooking and so is handstand landing and even as granddandying as the whole thing must seem to a circus there's some jerkiness in turning corners and facing mourners for the last great abandoned idea -- where have all the calendars gone? where are all the long-playing songs? let's add layers instead of spinning, let's have goals instead of winning one and then gasping for air -- but to be fair there's a great big blank -- to be fair it's an empty tank in one of those cars -- startling as that may seem it's a major scene with no script at all and the curtain call comes daily, so behaving's a must with the forward-moving trust that all will be revealed or decided and the settling out won't mean settling in or settling for -- there's nothing worse than giving up and giving in when there's plenty to swim and a big wide space : let there be chase and let there be ideas, but let there be sense and order in the hope for the golden threads float glimmerly and delicately fly

10 january

trust rusts after three washings of the wrong stuff and it's tough to touch up -- know how that goes and you'll have a clean bill, an easy will and a way (stay the executioner! pay off debts with borrowed fur!) -- there are bridges to be crossed, there are tempests to be tossed, but also there are salads -- and those are better eating than some thousand insecurities greeting eyes-closed wonder-whys (let's all hope and wish surprise is always on our better sides) -- there are plenty of things to say but even as the dark today comes faster in the rain parade, i'll make no excuses, no angsty ways of calling out (let's all twist, let's scream and shout!) - let me tell you all i'll say in hectic frenzy and wildeyed play : now there's no time left to wave hello until the clock blows by (an easy surprise with no watch worn, an untucked shirt and a hairgrowing storm : wait until the ice catches up! soon the digits will drop below and the calling out will hardly know (bury insecurities deep in black ink cups of tea -- smile bright at you, at me -- a mirror by another sense with no way to rephrase what i've wondered since) : even as the odder gets, even as the hopeful bets are placed, lace up shoes and crew the rowing storm - norm the masts and net the casts -- enemies of the face-first stand-ups (fall we do and call we will)

9 january

meanwhile the lights go down and there are blurrier words to say - even as it's clearer what i mean there are slurs to lean into and angles it's better not to try too fast : this is a mirror i speak into and the answers come back in colorfresh flavor the savory trends and the deepknee bends outreaching the beaching of whale tales and easybreak alarm clocks the doubledown talks of the righeous brigades fading faster than twinkling brights : white as a fox with forgetful lips (we trip ourselves with hopefulness) (the only plans we can make are none) - i have words to go on / a face to fall - show and all the splash comes down, water to wonder through - drink up and blunder bus fulls of leftover truths - we are all the coming proofs (geometry is a heady rush of narrow trusses and broken bridges when sines don't co and the rhymes don't go!) - we are the ones we look ahead to see, turning toward within to be (self as self - showoff as no-scoff) - now we are the selfsame pie (thumbs stuck in and no ask why)

8 january

even as the pork belies itself the cock doodles itself to color and the bylaws buy numbers with which to paint that other sort of picture - it's a double-feature film and the kind we're talking about is just this side of being asleep and if i could type while my eyes closed slowly i would wonder what awas happening to aand it wasn't that preettu wehere i was looking for a mirror or something but instead i closed my elese... this is whata happeneed.

7 january

mashup ketchup cash in and back up the meantime the free rhymes and radicals what matters is reason and seasons of change rain in the boots and tooting owned horns /scorned sleep catches up and swallows whole the rest

6 january

and when i fell asleep it was too late to say anything else

5 january

there are no rights to be left with to be tied i am fit but the writ i bit was habeas and the wish was to fall a star : car / start -- cold / depart -- all the answers chance their fingers faster than the fries can be refilled and i have willed the sun to shine while the easlyglow metals rhyme (let me tell you how to to reason with the alabaster kennel width while puppies and the monsters roar the ocean back through that seashore) easy as the mountains do their business keeping skies above the answers and the motions keep the listeners warm in silent gloves - can we hope our sirens scream as firetrucks roar their happy dreams, their wailing calls of redsilver themes - we and our streets and the hopehappy sleep - we and the safety we wish for the children, the feelings of worry and washaway fret, we and the wonders we haven't seen yet - the lists of all the hopeful tries, wishes for the maybe whys -- let's keep maybe in our hearts, let's write scenes and how they start will look so much like now that we will look around in wonder and blunder into fiction even as we lick our lips with hope - the ropes of truth will whistle as we linger in the leaning out of now

4 january

turning the window into blinds the day gets slanted - easy on the light and night comes up quicker : thick laying on of stories when a pair of ears appears (captive audience and willing spillover mop-up) (show me yours i'll tell you mine) - even as the listening spins out this is how the trimming extends and the hair gets shorter - snip and spin as the floor gets piled - details gone wild (oh i know!) with sympathy cards hardened in the middle and soft around the edges but let me tell you something i have not! got! my glasses on and there's something strongly wondersome to think about - like doubts i mean - the ways and the needs all getting met, maybe one regret too many to pass along in the shampoo and the rinse and the conditioning and the twistup parade well before the scissors even - but by the time the floor is covered, so are all the bases and there is nothing more i'm planning to add other than i'm glad i've made myself available here for the open-ended questioning that might not have been posed - just exposing the willing audience appearance - again, the no-fear-ance and the lack of judgement/ no budge meant to harm, all charm and no leaving (blow and the dryer means intermission late in the final act) traction lost with the language upkeep, deep in the translation - fascination of words mostly heard and somewhat guessed - pressed into service nervous enough in their delivery but shivery with emotion and disgust at the break-up (a cup that never overflowed, but now - cast away, the play to be had in examining its flaws, and wondering after a sweeter sip, even while disdaining it) - just a trim and a listen and a betterfeel empower - add a wonderhow to tipleave without too much thought entangled - though a friend she has is so nice and would be perfect want his number?

3 january

even as the dark rises the night turns up and the list should be shorter / skirting the issues we check off the items / worry not but hurry on / we are little dipper stars - candle holders and promise keepers - sweeping dust from eyelashes and corner pockets - stopping to lock out backward angles : try the bangles and also the veal! such a steal in a roundabout tea party electric eel shindig chuckee cheese skeeball orangutan bazaar !

those are the risks i took and hung my star out to for wonder - let's see where that gets us / but easy as the sidewalk turns from festive to arresting developments when the phone doesn't ring and the nights run out - ease on back and know the track was never laid - these are answers never given - that's a script was never written - read the words in the description again and see what original promises made in that fortune cookie crackpot jackrabbit compound before the fracture - just before the break those mistakes seemed for the making and the scene much more fantastical the strands for the grasping - my apologies for the knowledge breezed together while weather turned colder - the bolder the imaginings in the golder scenes - nothing to stay, indie notes play as the lights flicker quicker eggs to scramble (ramble on and stronger - shorter answers with longer sense : be kind enough to recompense or raise a neighbor/ higher fence)

2 january

while the settles get scored the music gets noted and the remotes are chanced - i have danced too many steps to keep in time with this rhythm! forgive and forget but then turn the page while you hold your breath (there are cookies and they crumble, there are scripts but speakers mumble) - let us speak of pleasanter stuff and wrap our fingers in faux fur muffs while the bough breaks and the curtains call : places, everyone! come and see the lions roar while the cattle catch their breath, then heave it out across the plains to claim the landscape as their own : we are here! we roam alone in unframed scenes and make our means to reach the ends - these we lend and those we keep - we are the dreams we cannot sleep through, those are the breaks we cannot creep true enough to bluff each listener as the cliffs fall off into steep-sided failure / we are the whales, we're the envy of small-toothed handmedown wonderwhys even as the meek surprise of quagmires works it way into dusking living rooms and bedrooms emptying of the hope of sleep : lead us toward a cooler pillow ! lead us to a rest that's free of want, a hope that's without need : i will not call unless you'd like to answer / waiting - maybe - plenty else to do

1 january

sometimes it's good to show off

         Here's What I've Got --

                 not even '--And How About You?'


just 'So There's That'

          them apples

          pixie stix and a bag o' tricks
                   I learned all by my lonesome

not so lonesome anymore, though
not with that whole bag to see me through
to be admired and adored --

-- and it's just fine if you're not floored

this elevator goes the whole way up and down

and there's plenty of town out there
on the other end of the sidewalk --
no talk necessary
no answer at all
just thought I'd call and say   Hey

Hope you're Swell and bell-ringin

'cause I'm bringin somethin new to show and tell today


//////

beginning again: so many thoughts to think with, glasses to clink with - to see through, over to the other side and beyond : the gravity of the situation - rounding up from nine point eight meters per second squared when compared to falling (calling all factual attackers of data) we made ya look! book it to the pizza and the pie while we dye our hair other rainbows and manufacture playdohs of infinite varieties - forgive our humble pieties while we imagine cakes and freight train robberies derailed by imperiled damsels who accidentally appeared in the knickknack of time - dimestore dozens and alabaster cousins too perfect for purchase - but who knew where to look? there's the cook and here's the pantry: when will i know where to land? we unpacked windows and turned the curtains but even from here i still can't see - there's a mission to mars but the bars are too open for the stools to pigeon-hole the desks we'll need - frost the cake and open shops while we still have money -- lock the doors and turn the keys while bakers still dream sweet