justwrite 17 october
when the apples count their miles the style is in fashion the cash-in value is less than advertised the surprise of a thousand capitals lettered like litter literally unforgiven the bigness of repetition I am tripping over reality the cows we see under trees are listening to their own reflections in the future direction we see ourselves on shelves and we are afraid to pick we take compote from a jar and imagine far-off pronunciation but this is the fear the fear that steers into trees and brings you to your own knees the sneeze of a separate letter is like one that will never be sent bent out of shape the escape into gladness and the suggestion of misdirection is one slight scent from a tree we can’t see there are fees we can’t pay there is no way to craft a raft up that river we shiver with the fright of delight are we waiting in the night for a bite from some other apple can the steeple be far from the falling waters calling all authors to write the bright light into action the traction not yet in place the ice nice enough to wait a few clicks later there are alligators in the sink and the brink of destruction means so much to a muffin it blows its top and rocks its socks off into the great wet west at the least behest of the most glorious reckoning beckoning the decks to get on all hands and knead the knees into bentback shape
justwrite 16 october
let’s talk about fall the call of the wild hiding a child’s smile in a wild embrace of leaves the sleeves trailing across noses supposing roses moses forgot to pack and the forty thieves laugh like a raccoon in a swoon over too much butter your mother called and asked me to stall you until the weather clears for she fears your health is a jeopardy game and you always forget to say what or who and you know she means well but it’s swell enough to ask and it’s not for me to answer to take such a chance with a backward-legged dancer we are going to the diner we are eating cherry pie there where there is nothing finer than the best coffee the taste of toffee wrapped up in pleasure measured in the morning and cataloged without warning by passing anthropologists if you don’t mind please just pose if you could indulge us let’s just suppose that no one’s here watching and you’re going about your own imagined business the forgiveness you’ll have to muster takes a different cake for the mistakes adding up the cups and liters and parking meters we are always trying and our eggs are frying in a plural sense unable to make tenses go away or to invite the cases to internally stay they are taking their own time they are suggesting other recipes and they just don’t want to grow up to give up to sup on tired soup
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
post 15 october
justwrite 15 october
the clover fields another ball calling all the acorns into their hidey holes stolen out of summer and tucked to fall into winter no hint of mints or green freshness of any kind blind to the sun and unstrung by young digits adding up to a couple more scoring all the stores into a row holding her own their stones thrown away along the mulberry bush the push forward warning all the army against false moves clues collected and rejected in search of the professor messing up the billiard room the plums swooning over mustard and wrenching a monopoly of hearts from the departed company while we sweep up the cobblestones overgrown with prosperity there are too many broths in this soup too many elbows to regroup out of task and time and to find an answer is a strong romancer no respecter of circumstance the backward glance forward is a new word understood and when I heard her said she fed her fish with money I laughed at the honeytree and called for more while the store kept closing on my foot and the frustration of such a trench unmentioned until too late the date has called itself out has doubted to play as a thing to ring a rosie and suppose the growing is unsolicited with revision revisited while the bigness of the idea leads on the fruit slices up the pursuit of a greater answer the dancing chances out of time with the pace rhythm space like a diamond in the sky too high to reach for too useless to preach for while still we stretch we catch ourselves in the mirror and smile while the style has not yet gone out
justwrite 14 october
time passes by into lands of seven the weaving grieving its passage into the masses of one the armies of brightlight the darkness of notnight I am waiting for the heat to turn on gone again are the days of crazy haze the dirt roads exploding from the paved center the bent trenches with their dents unmentionable salads the ballads I can not sing into tune the moon crooning its own penitentiary the bars carved out of accidental pastings the water onto the wall the stall onto the shower every hour the water boils more rice tastes more nice than language can tell the well runs dry like a firefly unimaginable the tragic angle dangling items of interest the beginningest of the end signs and they’re all in another tongue traced in the paint the state of confusion the union of illusion with reality the tragedy of no one hearing the steeping keeping up with the churchtower all the wallflowers growing along the vines keeping time with the tea and the free concert with the hurt chorus keeps its glorious pace putting colds in their places on wideopen faces we’re all surprised by subtitles we have no money for honey but the garlic keeps coming we’re running out of fingers but the cold is only now not soon not then not when
justwrite 13 october
I am too far away from the keys the need to strike and be stuck amok running and engines humming forward I have heart the echo of the sound that abounds around around the sense jumping each fence to a broken lock and into the key the monster swimming around and correcting the lessons marking the notes mis-hit and rose-hipped out of bounds swinging this way and that cat has too many hats for this apartment he’d better take the penthouse a bent mouse none the wiser a sad surpriser with a happy ending pretending to imagine a tragedy but really just thinking of crumpets with tea the rolls holding their own and cloning imagined taste the face of a thousand smiles a sunflower aisle to walk down and talk town shop mop cleaning it all up scuffing the granola and seeking payola in the form of normalcy the hours have changed the rearranged leaves have left and what we’ve got in this spot is not a lot like applesauce but the boss leaves the roof down and clowns cruise their own town jumping out and bus stops and hopping onto popcorn ferries the cherries of the fleet meeting each hand with a shake and the same with milk and that sort of ilk quick enough to stir but slow enough to malt without halting let us drink sips and sing summer in the rain the cold the degrees breezing downward I can feel the taste nothing to waste no haste to be made just to smile in the shade
the clover fields another ball calling all the acorns into their hidey holes stolen out of summer and tucked to fall into winter no hint of mints or green freshness of any kind blind to the sun and unstrung by young digits adding up to a couple more scoring all the stores into a row holding her own their stones thrown away along the mulberry bush the push forward warning all the army against false moves clues collected and rejected in search of the professor messing up the billiard room the plums swooning over mustard and wrenching a monopoly of hearts from the departed company while we sweep up the cobblestones overgrown with prosperity there are too many broths in this soup too many elbows to regroup out of task and time and to find an answer is a strong romancer no respecter of circumstance the backward glance forward is a new word understood and when I heard her said she fed her fish with money I laughed at the honeytree and called for more while the store kept closing on my foot and the frustration of such a trench unmentioned until too late the date has called itself out has doubted to play as a thing to ring a rosie and suppose the growing is unsolicited with revision revisited while the bigness of the idea leads on the fruit slices up the pursuit of a greater answer the dancing chances out of time with the pace rhythm space like a diamond in the sky too high to reach for too useless to preach for while still we stretch we catch ourselves in the mirror and smile while the style has not yet gone out
justwrite 14 october
time passes by into lands of seven the weaving grieving its passage into the masses of one the armies of brightlight the darkness of notnight I am waiting for the heat to turn on gone again are the days of crazy haze the dirt roads exploding from the paved center the bent trenches with their dents unmentionable salads the ballads I can not sing into tune the moon crooning its own penitentiary the bars carved out of accidental pastings the water onto the wall the stall onto the shower every hour the water boils more rice tastes more nice than language can tell the well runs dry like a firefly unimaginable the tragic angle dangling items of interest the beginningest of the end signs and they’re all in another tongue traced in the paint the state of confusion the union of illusion with reality the tragedy of no one hearing the steeping keeping up with the churchtower all the wallflowers growing along the vines keeping time with the tea and the free concert with the hurt chorus keeps its glorious pace putting colds in their places on wideopen faces we’re all surprised by subtitles we have no money for honey but the garlic keeps coming we’re running out of fingers but the cold is only now not soon not then not when
justwrite 13 october
I am too far away from the keys the need to strike and be stuck amok running and engines humming forward I have heart the echo of the sound that abounds around around the sense jumping each fence to a broken lock and into the key the monster swimming around and correcting the lessons marking the notes mis-hit and rose-hipped out of bounds swinging this way and that cat has too many hats for this apartment he’d better take the penthouse a bent mouse none the wiser a sad surpriser with a happy ending pretending to imagine a tragedy but really just thinking of crumpets with tea the rolls holding their own and cloning imagined taste the face of a thousand smiles a sunflower aisle to walk down and talk town shop mop cleaning it all up scuffing the granola and seeking payola in the form of normalcy the hours have changed the rearranged leaves have left and what we’ve got in this spot is not a lot like applesauce but the boss leaves the roof down and clowns cruise their own town jumping out and bus stops and hopping onto popcorn ferries the cherries of the fleet meeting each hand with a shake and the same with milk and that sort of ilk quick enough to stir but slow enough to malt without halting let us drink sips and sing summer in the rain the cold the degrees breezing downward I can feel the taste nothing to waste no haste to be made just to smile in the shade
Monday, October 12, 2009
post 12 october
justwrite 12 october
I have got to clock this rock tock this stopwatch I am caught in the crosswalk and the ticktock sunflower power of seeds in my teeth multiplies disguising the surprise I thought I felt in my fingers kept lingering over a trigger bigger and badder than the maddest hare you ever did pull out of your rushing brush out of touch with the hole falling in through the whole out of touch with the rolling blackouts the track shouts its forgiveness and I am ready to accept the intellect collecting here is out of touch the machine we preen and carry in our arms is no help with this wealth of ignorance in the bigness of the moment the size surprises even the softest listener glistening in a thousand reflections the conversion not yet charted the train not yet departed from another station the information gathered just a smattering of small matters gathered in surprise the ayes have not got it together the wise are subtracting extra letters keeping their slippers on and their apples tied tight my clothes are fresh and made of air kept crisp like the ironless hand of a wrinkly man the settlement is ready to be retrieved too young to be believed but it is mature it is sure and tidy and the neatness hiding within is ready to begin again like the sense looking to make itself out of nearby spare parts
justwrite 11 october
now it’s time to climb into the tree and to sack all the socks to keep up the stock we are wondering where we are wandering all our pondering is for naught we ought to keep up but the stuff of dreams is caramel cream with sugar in the middle and to fiddle with three fingers is to twiddle one thumb coming undone like a blanket in the night held tight by some distant sleeper rolling over and over the ocean bonnie like a prince like a filly running hither and yon and on and beyond the calm the fall like a tide an ocean of closing in tighter then drifting like sand in between hands planted like a plant and pulled like a pulley there are things so clear we can’t even see them we know them like our own we skin our own home planet and can it to keep it like a secret place saving face for another time when it’s warmer and the disorder of the present tense seems hardly worth mentioning I am talking about language I am stepping into puddles there is trouble falling from the sky but inside it is warmer and the tea comes safe with honey right lemon on the money like a soap opera adopting a different sense of sense too distant too resistant to interpretation too leading into fascination that the complications can not be told aloud can not be shuffled into a crowd and kept waiting I am dating the sidewalk several thousand bc and the tv is on into the bright while the white light takes its own sweet time and the sun pretends tomorrow while it waits and preens its rays
justwrite 10 october
I have washed the cost of living right out of forgiveness the thickness of a sense worth mentioning is too tense to defend to deliver such a shiver down mine spine is a line in the sand I can’t stand to cross with a dot and mark with a line just fine we’re feeling we’re stealing our circles out of the sky and the clouds too high for flying buy kites and keep trying to wonder how it’s going to blow like the weather too tired to fire up the wire and line the walk with sides the wide water the hired daughter and the borrowed son the undone rhyme skips syllables an unforgettable regret I have yet to tell you how well you ought to be doing I am brewing another key a pot of tea a coffee free and clear and here there’s more to say in another way and the stay is the leaving and the freezing is only clean clothes the show is going on the strong song sung in time has a mind of its own a tone sixteen tons undone and the library is closing but if you suppose the cars will make it far enough then you will know how to go to the upper deck and collect the fridge points the prize and the thigh-high apple trees breezing through the oranges turning yellow like a fellow traveler and thinking this is what I like to drink and blinking how I fill the sink with clean
justwrite 9 october
no chase to space this brace
a cased joint unbroken
a token key turned into a fare
unaware of spacing issues
of oncoming tissues
we have opened our mouths again
to a separate case
just to face the end
to lend an ear
a steer clear off the farm
away from harm
and straight through the clear blue elsewhere
up in the clear air
the fear to prepare incorrectly
the directly right bite
from the front of the apple
nothing the matter but lost in the sauce
we are tossed like a saladfresh ballad
eager to please
each wave through the trees
I have got to clock this rock tock this stopwatch I am caught in the crosswalk and the ticktock sunflower power of seeds in my teeth multiplies disguising the surprise I thought I felt in my fingers kept lingering over a trigger bigger and badder than the maddest hare you ever did pull out of your rushing brush out of touch with the hole falling in through the whole out of touch with the rolling blackouts the track shouts its forgiveness and I am ready to accept the intellect collecting here is out of touch the machine we preen and carry in our arms is no help with this wealth of ignorance in the bigness of the moment the size surprises even the softest listener glistening in a thousand reflections the conversion not yet charted the train not yet departed from another station the information gathered just a smattering of small matters gathered in surprise the ayes have not got it together the wise are subtracting extra letters keeping their slippers on and their apples tied tight my clothes are fresh and made of air kept crisp like the ironless hand of a wrinkly man the settlement is ready to be retrieved too young to be believed but it is mature it is sure and tidy and the neatness hiding within is ready to begin again like the sense looking to make itself out of nearby spare parts
justwrite 11 october
now it’s time to climb into the tree and to sack all the socks to keep up the stock we are wondering where we are wandering all our pondering is for naught we ought to keep up but the stuff of dreams is caramel cream with sugar in the middle and to fiddle with three fingers is to twiddle one thumb coming undone like a blanket in the night held tight by some distant sleeper rolling over and over the ocean bonnie like a prince like a filly running hither and yon and on and beyond the calm the fall like a tide an ocean of closing in tighter then drifting like sand in between hands planted like a plant and pulled like a pulley there are things so clear we can’t even see them we know them like our own we skin our own home planet and can it to keep it like a secret place saving face for another time when it’s warmer and the disorder of the present tense seems hardly worth mentioning I am talking about language I am stepping into puddles there is trouble falling from the sky but inside it is warmer and the tea comes safe with honey right lemon on the money like a soap opera adopting a different sense of sense too distant too resistant to interpretation too leading into fascination that the complications can not be told aloud can not be shuffled into a crowd and kept waiting I am dating the sidewalk several thousand bc and the tv is on into the bright while the white light takes its own sweet time and the sun pretends tomorrow while it waits and preens its rays
justwrite 10 october
I have washed the cost of living right out of forgiveness the thickness of a sense worth mentioning is too tense to defend to deliver such a shiver down mine spine is a line in the sand I can’t stand to cross with a dot and mark with a line just fine we’re feeling we’re stealing our circles out of the sky and the clouds too high for flying buy kites and keep trying to wonder how it’s going to blow like the weather too tired to fire up the wire and line the walk with sides the wide water the hired daughter and the borrowed son the undone rhyme skips syllables an unforgettable regret I have yet to tell you how well you ought to be doing I am brewing another key a pot of tea a coffee free and clear and here there’s more to say in another way and the stay is the leaving and the freezing is only clean clothes the show is going on the strong song sung in time has a mind of its own a tone sixteen tons undone and the library is closing but if you suppose the cars will make it far enough then you will know how to go to the upper deck and collect the fridge points the prize and the thigh-high apple trees breezing through the oranges turning yellow like a fellow traveler and thinking this is what I like to drink and blinking how I fill the sink with clean
justwrite 9 october
no chase to space this brace
a cased joint unbroken
a token key turned into a fare
unaware of spacing issues
of oncoming tissues
we have opened our mouths again
to a separate case
just to face the end
to lend an ear
a steer clear off the farm
away from harm
and straight through the clear blue elsewhere
up in the clear air
the fear to prepare incorrectly
the directly right bite
from the front of the apple
nothing the matter but lost in the sauce
we are tossed like a saladfresh ballad
eager to please
each wave through the trees
Saturday, October 10, 2009
post 10 october
justwrite 8 october
apples in the sun undone by sauce tick their tocks and toggle each switch to up rising to surprising heights holding hands in the night and through the day way on down the up line twine tied and hearts high in the air let them stare and care more than their share the hair I’ve seen has no queen no root but its own horn tooted in disgusted triumph I am hoping to tell you all the news the truths and the youth of the nation in fascination from a distance are relying on your resistance to immunity your proclivity for jumping in to swim up the other way to stay on course of track the force is strong along the sidewalk the curb having edged the hedge you have got to know the show and the tickets and you lick it once shame on the stamp damp and wondering in wandering succession the lessons having been learned into passive leaning the cases too dated to name too accusative to claim on any outcome tax the income lax at this point having missed the twist we used to do again last summer but the numbers still are rolling and the sunlight still is strolling dance with me in elegant geometry the tendency to see your air breathed in close warm no storm like that cloud too loud too flexible the allowable credit can’t let it take form but the norm is something reasonable and the fees are not unfeasible
justwrite 7 october
now is the time we rhyme our crimes with forgiveness of ourselves the bigness of our hearts encompassing our charts our cherry tarts swept clean away in the dark we are our own rewards our wardens our imagined enemies the entities we have replaced in the space where our entwined confined tastes bite their tongues unstrung along like clockwork in the thickwitted months ahead better instead to invest not yet to buy with both hands the command no less demanding of understanding than a sweater minus two thumbs coming undone at the ear the unwinding minding its own wax and bees as well yelling remotely for a change of program forgiving the guide but hiding inside of a hollow tree we are three too many for this chair from where I sit and the fit too loose for such a goose to mend itself to defend its health against all comers the colors by numbers where the answers are seven and green and a window in between clear and wide and open
justwrite 6 october
now when the time comes
we strum our songs
longer than any imagining
the strategy not quite
forthcoming
mindnumb
tired of firing
apples in the sun undone by sauce tick their tocks and toggle each switch to up rising to surprising heights holding hands in the night and through the day way on down the up line twine tied and hearts high in the air let them stare and care more than their share the hair I’ve seen has no queen no root but its own horn tooted in disgusted triumph I am hoping to tell you all the news the truths and the youth of the nation in fascination from a distance are relying on your resistance to immunity your proclivity for jumping in to swim up the other way to stay on course of track the force is strong along the sidewalk the curb having edged the hedge you have got to know the show and the tickets and you lick it once shame on the stamp damp and wondering in wandering succession the lessons having been learned into passive leaning the cases too dated to name too accusative to claim on any outcome tax the income lax at this point having missed the twist we used to do again last summer but the numbers still are rolling and the sunlight still is strolling dance with me in elegant geometry the tendency to see your air breathed in close warm no storm like that cloud too loud too flexible the allowable credit can’t let it take form but the norm is something reasonable and the fees are not unfeasible
justwrite 7 october
now is the time we rhyme our crimes with forgiveness of ourselves the bigness of our hearts encompassing our charts our cherry tarts swept clean away in the dark we are our own rewards our wardens our imagined enemies the entities we have replaced in the space where our entwined confined tastes bite their tongues unstrung along like clockwork in the thickwitted months ahead better instead to invest not yet to buy with both hands the command no less demanding of understanding than a sweater minus two thumbs coming undone at the ear the unwinding minding its own wax and bees as well yelling remotely for a change of program forgiving the guide but hiding inside of a hollow tree we are three too many for this chair from where I sit and the fit too loose for such a goose to mend itself to defend its health against all comers the colors by numbers where the answers are seven and green and a window in between clear and wide and open
justwrite 6 october
now when the time comes
we strum our songs
longer than any imagining
the strategy not quite
forthcoming
mindnumb
tired of firing
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
post 6 october
justwrite 5 october
swimming I am skimming the top the pages tired fired up again there are trends but we can not tell the neighbors the space savers the savor of a thousand flavors piled upon each other a sidewalk box of cookies looking good in the afternoon autum the boxes open and hoping for hands commanding their owners taken by leaders with liters of encouragement an urge spent on a park bench whence it came and went it’s gone again a clan of strands twisted up into a misty vale a vowel and how we’ll know is by the landmarks the outstanding sharks in the sand handing it to us blustering through the new old world order the sorting not worth sifting through admitting you ought to think differently the bits we see of another world hurled backwards into time off of the balcony yesterday’s towel howling in the inside wind the bins of apples happening into cakes no mistakes about those bites no life’s too long too short to cavort in trees the breeze picks its own fruit and the loot can not be translated the dative case the nominative forgiveness of another afternoon the crooning calling stalling out with the backward tenses we are worth mentioning and we have our tendencies we will not be shaken our spots will not be taken in line we are moving forward I hold your hand as I walk
justwrite 4 october
I am sending lending bending the ruler I can measure whatever I treasure in two eyes there is no surprise here we fear our own worst rewards waning off the morning and settling into nettles betting the bank on the rank and file the style is unforgivable I have to quibble with these results I have tumult in my tummy but there are gin rummy dramas to play out to shout backwards to a one-armed man scanning the exits with beeps and deep wide smiles hiding the aisles of eyes with surprise the pools to jump into the grandmothers uncovered in their inner workings jerking the chain along the main drag with watermelon to boot in cahoots with the permutations of a nation divided by unions the communion of leaves and trees getting up to their arms in arms and harming no one with such actions just the traction of keeping it together the attack the lack of sense the unmentionable tense neither past nor present but the best bent to have went gone been around the doctor ought to help such an elf to exist the gist having been gotten into the wrong voice the passive having rejoiced and the tables having turned earning all that credit never to regret it and always to call forward before arrival the survival of the classes being based on the grades the fades having been mastered like a disaster like a plaster keeping the wall together like a feather ready to fly without the rest of the wing singing a song one note at a turn earning credit and burning regret it’s the last best hope the rope has already been strung along the bridge is strong but the water wonders wanders widely wildly high and lying in wait and baiting the bystanders with tender waves
justwrite 3 october
I am thinking about drinking in the ocean the devotion to a higher cause a hidden clause in a counteractive contract reacting to the track I jumped from humpty dumpty style while all the king’s horses course through the par and play guitar on the wall calling blind men out for tea like the starry sea of three mice and their spicy enchiladas all you wanna see is to be is to free your nose from that undisclosed clover field yielding fruits of repetition glistening in unimagined splendor I have never seen I have often been accused of such happenstance chance being caused by my own dance for snow but I know there is no way out of a mess like that a cat on the corner singing scat like a mourner for missing syllables filling the air with a chill that there are too many covers to cover too many colors to number and the three is a seven and the green is between stages right now please hold please fold your hands in patience the way in is no way out the wrestling messing with your sense and sensibility the thrill you see in chocolate of the best kind biding your time in the sitting room building up with to zoom into action the traction of a sleigh weighed down with holiday is okay in most weather and so much the better if it’s slippery stuff the toughest kind defined by the climate of the situation of the scheme and in between we wonder about emergency numbers and how to spot them what we’ll do once we’ve caught them and how to respond once the words travel on far after please or thank you or a number true enough to be right but bright and flashing with the sound of laughing
swimming I am skimming the top the pages tired fired up again there are trends but we can not tell the neighbors the space savers the savor of a thousand flavors piled upon each other a sidewalk box of cookies looking good in the afternoon autum the boxes open and hoping for hands commanding their owners taken by leaders with liters of encouragement an urge spent on a park bench whence it came and went it’s gone again a clan of strands twisted up into a misty vale a vowel and how we’ll know is by the landmarks the outstanding sharks in the sand handing it to us blustering through the new old world order the sorting not worth sifting through admitting you ought to think differently the bits we see of another world hurled backwards into time off of the balcony yesterday’s towel howling in the inside wind the bins of apples happening into cakes no mistakes about those bites no life’s too long too short to cavort in trees the breeze picks its own fruit and the loot can not be translated the dative case the nominative forgiveness of another afternoon the crooning calling stalling out with the backward tenses we are worth mentioning and we have our tendencies we will not be shaken our spots will not be taken in line we are moving forward I hold your hand as I walk
justwrite 4 october
I am sending lending bending the ruler I can measure whatever I treasure in two eyes there is no surprise here we fear our own worst rewards waning off the morning and settling into nettles betting the bank on the rank and file the style is unforgivable I have to quibble with these results I have tumult in my tummy but there are gin rummy dramas to play out to shout backwards to a one-armed man scanning the exits with beeps and deep wide smiles hiding the aisles of eyes with surprise the pools to jump into the grandmothers uncovered in their inner workings jerking the chain along the main drag with watermelon to boot in cahoots with the permutations of a nation divided by unions the communion of leaves and trees getting up to their arms in arms and harming no one with such actions just the traction of keeping it together the attack the lack of sense the unmentionable tense neither past nor present but the best bent to have went gone been around the doctor ought to help such an elf to exist the gist having been gotten into the wrong voice the passive having rejoiced and the tables having turned earning all that credit never to regret it and always to call forward before arrival the survival of the classes being based on the grades the fades having been mastered like a disaster like a plaster keeping the wall together like a feather ready to fly without the rest of the wing singing a song one note at a turn earning credit and burning regret it’s the last best hope the rope has already been strung along the bridge is strong but the water wonders wanders widely wildly high and lying in wait and baiting the bystanders with tender waves
justwrite 3 october
I am thinking about drinking in the ocean the devotion to a higher cause a hidden clause in a counteractive contract reacting to the track I jumped from humpty dumpty style while all the king’s horses course through the par and play guitar on the wall calling blind men out for tea like the starry sea of three mice and their spicy enchiladas all you wanna see is to be is to free your nose from that undisclosed clover field yielding fruits of repetition glistening in unimagined splendor I have never seen I have often been accused of such happenstance chance being caused by my own dance for snow but I know there is no way out of a mess like that a cat on the corner singing scat like a mourner for missing syllables filling the air with a chill that there are too many covers to cover too many colors to number and the three is a seven and the green is between stages right now please hold please fold your hands in patience the way in is no way out the wrestling messing with your sense and sensibility the thrill you see in chocolate of the best kind biding your time in the sitting room building up with to zoom into action the traction of a sleigh weighed down with holiday is okay in most weather and so much the better if it’s slippery stuff the toughest kind defined by the climate of the situation of the scheme and in between we wonder about emergency numbers and how to spot them what we’ll do once we’ve caught them and how to respond once the words travel on far after please or thank you or a number true enough to be right but bright and flashing with the sound of laughing
Saturday, October 3, 2009
post 3 october
justwrite 2 october
when the signal hits go I am ready to green to show the inbetween superstars just how far away it is to the top but not to stop because there are trolleys from here to there and if you stare at the right window long enough with a tasteful smile it will open in a friedawake while and your mouth will eat what your eyes have been waiting for a storied tale a neverfail ending pretending there is no need no speed to keep barreling through like falls into Niagara and there surprise is there in store by the bottled water you otter be buying by the well by the by it’s to buy the bottle and throttle life in a heist where the result is loot on all sides tided over by the openair feeling the steeling of nerves and the wheeling of hearts into bed to curl up close to in the cool night warming up easily and the pleasure is all mine all divine in a cloudy sense the tense not too tight no brighter star in this sky and my how the curtains have something to say my how the way is unclear in a tearful sense but imagined hence we see the next step we have our thoughts to thank for putting that together we have weather or not we have got ideas and when and then and here and I have a family how are you how old are you where are you from it’s been a pleasure speaking to you and thank you thank you доврий
justwrite 1 october
ready I am steady and waiting to go out to come in to sing swimming lessons all through the town drowning in pleasant scenes coming between Christmas and a list meant to be met to wet the color and water the number we are stronger than our other selves the shelves too heavy for steady consultation there is a fascination with normalcy but it’s a chore you see played out again and again a scan of the northwest and a rest to rants with a you in there and where we see our better selves let’s just say we talked and I walked forward onward onto a cliff playing a riff of over and over cloverwheels stealing the chairs caught unaware of the danger embracing each stranger as another manger filler willing away any fees to be paid to be waylaid on the commercial break to fake out any condiments with a spin that’s meant to put a dent in our twist-tie baggage we can see all there is we can carry along like fish in a bit of powder tossing themselves beautiful a dutiful turn of the screw a true encounter of another kind we are defined by our rhymes but mine entwined in the alternate lives of a parallel universe suggests the worst is yet to bet its own stake on dinner on a winter on a splinter of eggs and the dregs of another round of pounds left by the wayside we tried but we hide our own suggestions our hard-earned lessons in our pockets locked up for reflection but passed along in the direction forward forearmed up to the elbow and ready to blow by in the wink of a fly
when the signal hits go I am ready to green to show the inbetween superstars just how far away it is to the top but not to stop because there are trolleys from here to there and if you stare at the right window long enough with a tasteful smile it will open in a friedawake while and your mouth will eat what your eyes have been waiting for a storied tale a neverfail ending pretending there is no need no speed to keep barreling through like falls into Niagara and there surprise is there in store by the bottled water you otter be buying by the well by the by it’s to buy the bottle and throttle life in a heist where the result is loot on all sides tided over by the openair feeling the steeling of nerves and the wheeling of hearts into bed to curl up close to in the cool night warming up easily and the pleasure is all mine all divine in a cloudy sense the tense not too tight no brighter star in this sky and my how the curtains have something to say my how the way is unclear in a tearful sense but imagined hence we see the next step we have our thoughts to thank for putting that together we have weather or not we have got ideas and when and then and here and I have a family how are you how old are you where are you from it’s been a pleasure speaking to you and thank you thank you доврий
justwrite 1 october
ready I am steady and waiting to go out to come in to sing swimming lessons all through the town drowning in pleasant scenes coming between Christmas and a list meant to be met to wet the color and water the number we are stronger than our other selves the shelves too heavy for steady consultation there is a fascination with normalcy but it’s a chore you see played out again and again a scan of the northwest and a rest to rants with a you in there and where we see our better selves let’s just say we talked and I walked forward onward onto a cliff playing a riff of over and over cloverwheels stealing the chairs caught unaware of the danger embracing each stranger as another manger filler willing away any fees to be paid to be waylaid on the commercial break to fake out any condiments with a spin that’s meant to put a dent in our twist-tie baggage we can see all there is we can carry along like fish in a bit of powder tossing themselves beautiful a dutiful turn of the screw a true encounter of another kind we are defined by our rhymes but mine entwined in the alternate lives of a parallel universe suggests the worst is yet to bet its own stake on dinner on a winter on a splinter of eggs and the dregs of another round of pounds left by the wayside we tried but we hide our own suggestions our hard-earned lessons in our pockets locked up for reflection but passed along in the direction forward forearmed up to the elbow and ready to blow by in the wink of a fly
Thursday, October 1, 2009
justwrites post 1 oct
justwrite 26 september
air overloads even the meekest secret the bit of sense you mentioned yesterday is hardly worth bringing up a cup of water and the tottering ice splicing warms sips and the wits end again a scandal worth mentioning without any pretending that the ending of that noise is not requested that the bested solution is still stewing with the beef and the beets treating nearby blanks with pinkpurple banks of color of number and the hunger too for more historical value I am listening to top-volume classical the tragical outcomes and the mystical tickles of the ivories describing these literary scares unaware and unaccompanied the trump we see being played again and again and when the fruit flies when the flute gathers heat I will change my locks I will stock my barrels with sterile gauze causing neighbors to stare and to wander unaware into unexpected time zones droning on and one and over long-gone trains where the station is leaving without you and removed true to form from the norm you had earlier envisioned though the rate of attrition is enhanced by the dance of the hands to my left together sliding onto thighs beside they are nodding along to the translation and I am considering what station I ought to tune into to become immune to concerns of that sort although the greater hope is a longer scope and sequence ready to fall into line in time
justwrite 27 september
night a bright stretch catching all the beets yet to come I will strum along the corridors more and more hasting making waste to taste with a rinsable replacement of all the ribbons the printers the schisms in the hinterlands the winter commands with elegant hands pointing in the right direction igniting the positive reflection passing the collection plate to stay out late to collect the minutes with you in it to the max to the core the floral draperies making no mistake to please each connecter to understand her concerns is to earn her respect in place of neglect I am penciling in the decision yes I am pressing my cheek against the pavement in amazement and telling all the kangaroos to hop in down to drop that town full of applejacks arranging syntax the storming into citymax to cash in for that bling to sing along in sequined surprise the eyes having it and poking them out with woo-hoo party-like-a-rockstar flair will you care to hear the details can I but fail to follow through on the posting who and what the cut-up slices of orange restoring the vitamins to see and be seen by the light of a green candlewax attack ignited by united delegates forces of course too true to be universal too many cars full to be metatarsals and the fingers and the toes grow up in rows popping up like crops corn scorning all of the multiple intelligences climbing the fence and setting down underground with a nose for moles and the desire too for more
justwrite 28 september
having leapt the bounds we are found hopping up into the tide and burrowing into the mud and like frogs we are easily surprised having spied a different view earlier the sturdier of two points having anointed our consciences with the better plan again in quotes with remote chances of completion the deletion of records with a single glance having had the chance to entrance the audience with a preponderance of questions not entirely rhetorical the metaphysics too adorable to understand the command of each key the tree of each root in cahoots with a choo-choo train and the think-I-can vein of mind the winding road a mile from style and half as tall the call to bid farewell to fall and other related seasonings the reasoning a completely separate concern let us talk about wallpaper and the stapler that made this paper possible keeping it all together in any weather and knotting a pine could define what’s in store for the sure things the wings and celery the bleu cheese things of someone else’s imaginings we are wading into deep water here and the fear is not that we will be unable to swim but that we will not swim fast enough the rough tides ahead of the frogs prompt reflection and a change of pace a trace of irony in the blood but nothing to fear yet again to steer off the track the laugh the path of least entertainment runs through it comes true it’s the best of times new roman the font that just wants more than four square deals more steals than a baseball thief a chief detective can’t figure out the trout to scale and just as whale because when I checked it out last it was a bass
justwrite 29 september
ignite a united tie and roll both halves another lap away let your tongue play itself out and shout itself hoarse of course there are alternate endings but first you must get past the start the heart of a collective sigh dries on dusty lips tripping over a doublering phone calling for calling all durable goods which should be happy should be made snappy even if the clover route is too south along the boat to be kicked is too thick to be embarrassed by the precarious shoutings of the devout brrrringings of a sheep’s bell just as well the call divides itself for its health is in occasional danger and the manger scene has not yet been set we seek a rushing out of time a running into lines and blushing to the beginning to the start the heart of the matter having been placed into the passive voice rejoicing in melodramatic strains rearranged like a wavering line feeling fine in the best room and instead of western it’s a chopped clock ravaged by cabbage and able to seem stable enough to stand still to fight chlorophyll without destroying the sun there is a crumb of sense in this warmth there is a hope that’s due north from here and steering right on through to truth I am staked on making a claim I am relearning to hear my name and all the tides changed since the last ride picking up new passengers and stirring up the watched pot caught on top of the stove
justwrite 30 september
good very good super good we have understood our purposes and we are working to cross them like a watchtower with misspent time rhyming in the closet I am a faucet working to flow forward in time I am not alone there are scones there are situations not worth working beyond the stopwatch has to go and I am wondering how to show some sort of competency the dependency on singleword phrases crazes me lazily I seem to be age three and there are no half to laugh along with there are fits to be tied and the statue is a new take on an old break for coffee for tea for we are our own worst enemies and our best friends my answers are in a different voice but we all rejoice for ice cream we dream in shortterm naps collapsing in the event of rain of strain and a sort of pile of boots that smile backwards with absurd tongues strung along out to dry all high up like a kite full of tights and an ignited tense in the sense that we are our own worst critics and best audiences despite a preponderance of evidence that we cannot keep our elbows in our own ears they are steering us toward steak but make no mistake about that cattle prod we will not go gently quietly tensely defiantly we will sit and think and wonder what bus to take we will make mistakes and mustaches there will be problems loading the page and a change of the guard will be too hard to follow in one language let alone two and the default setting is betting on no one else noticing which is a floating fine free fancy way to be if the tree
air overloads even the meekest secret the bit of sense you mentioned yesterday is hardly worth bringing up a cup of water and the tottering ice splicing warms sips and the wits end again a scandal worth mentioning without any pretending that the ending of that noise is not requested that the bested solution is still stewing with the beef and the beets treating nearby blanks with pinkpurple banks of color of number and the hunger too for more historical value I am listening to top-volume classical the tragical outcomes and the mystical tickles of the ivories describing these literary scares unaware and unaccompanied the trump we see being played again and again and when the fruit flies when the flute gathers heat I will change my locks I will stock my barrels with sterile gauze causing neighbors to stare and to wander unaware into unexpected time zones droning on and one and over long-gone trains where the station is leaving without you and removed true to form from the norm you had earlier envisioned though the rate of attrition is enhanced by the dance of the hands to my left together sliding onto thighs beside they are nodding along to the translation and I am considering what station I ought to tune into to become immune to concerns of that sort although the greater hope is a longer scope and sequence ready to fall into line in time
justwrite 27 september
night a bright stretch catching all the beets yet to come I will strum along the corridors more and more hasting making waste to taste with a rinsable replacement of all the ribbons the printers the schisms in the hinterlands the winter commands with elegant hands pointing in the right direction igniting the positive reflection passing the collection plate to stay out late to collect the minutes with you in it to the max to the core the floral draperies making no mistake to please each connecter to understand her concerns is to earn her respect in place of neglect I am penciling in the decision yes I am pressing my cheek against the pavement in amazement and telling all the kangaroos to hop in down to drop that town full of applejacks arranging syntax the storming into citymax to cash in for that bling to sing along in sequined surprise the eyes having it and poking them out with woo-hoo party-like-a-rockstar flair will you care to hear the details can I but fail to follow through on the posting who and what the cut-up slices of orange restoring the vitamins to see and be seen by the light of a green candlewax attack ignited by united delegates forces of course too true to be universal too many cars full to be metatarsals and the fingers and the toes grow up in rows popping up like crops corn scorning all of the multiple intelligences climbing the fence and setting down underground with a nose for moles and the desire too for more
justwrite 28 september
having leapt the bounds we are found hopping up into the tide and burrowing into the mud and like frogs we are easily surprised having spied a different view earlier the sturdier of two points having anointed our consciences with the better plan again in quotes with remote chances of completion the deletion of records with a single glance having had the chance to entrance the audience with a preponderance of questions not entirely rhetorical the metaphysics too adorable to understand the command of each key the tree of each root in cahoots with a choo-choo train and the think-I-can vein of mind the winding road a mile from style and half as tall the call to bid farewell to fall and other related seasonings the reasoning a completely separate concern let us talk about wallpaper and the stapler that made this paper possible keeping it all together in any weather and knotting a pine could define what’s in store for the sure things the wings and celery the bleu cheese things of someone else’s imaginings we are wading into deep water here and the fear is not that we will be unable to swim but that we will not swim fast enough the rough tides ahead of the frogs prompt reflection and a change of pace a trace of irony in the blood but nothing to fear yet again to steer off the track the laugh the path of least entertainment runs through it comes true it’s the best of times new roman the font that just wants more than four square deals more steals than a baseball thief a chief detective can’t figure out the trout to scale and just as whale because when I checked it out last it was a bass
justwrite 29 september
ignite a united tie and roll both halves another lap away let your tongue play itself out and shout itself hoarse of course there are alternate endings but first you must get past the start the heart of a collective sigh dries on dusty lips tripping over a doublering phone calling for calling all durable goods which should be happy should be made snappy even if the clover route is too south along the boat to be kicked is too thick to be embarrassed by the precarious shoutings of the devout brrrringings of a sheep’s bell just as well the call divides itself for its health is in occasional danger and the manger scene has not yet been set we seek a rushing out of time a running into lines and blushing to the beginning to the start the heart of the matter having been placed into the passive voice rejoicing in melodramatic strains rearranged like a wavering line feeling fine in the best room and instead of western it’s a chopped clock ravaged by cabbage and able to seem stable enough to stand still to fight chlorophyll without destroying the sun there is a crumb of sense in this warmth there is a hope that’s due north from here and steering right on through to truth I am staked on making a claim I am relearning to hear my name and all the tides changed since the last ride picking up new passengers and stirring up the watched pot caught on top of the stove
justwrite 30 september
good very good super good we have understood our purposes and we are working to cross them like a watchtower with misspent time rhyming in the closet I am a faucet working to flow forward in time I am not alone there are scones there are situations not worth working beyond the stopwatch has to go and I am wondering how to show some sort of competency the dependency on singleword phrases crazes me lazily I seem to be age three and there are no half to laugh along with there are fits to be tied and the statue is a new take on an old break for coffee for tea for we are our own worst enemies and our best friends my answers are in a different voice but we all rejoice for ice cream we dream in shortterm naps collapsing in the event of rain of strain and a sort of pile of boots that smile backwards with absurd tongues strung along out to dry all high up like a kite full of tights and an ignited tense in the sense that we are our own worst critics and best audiences despite a preponderance of evidence that we cannot keep our elbows in our own ears they are steering us toward steak but make no mistake about that cattle prod we will not go gently quietly tensely defiantly we will sit and think and wonder what bus to take we will make mistakes and mustaches there will be problems loading the page and a change of the guard will be too hard to follow in one language let alone two and the default setting is betting on no one else noticing which is a floating fine free fancy way to be if the tree
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
