12 january

The space that replaces the chase makes the case for the words that herd themselves into meaning to matching the scenes that wean their weary way toward whence they came the ways that wind the whiles that bind and while we’re minding our manners I’ll say it matters, dear, to be clear that the lines that break and the ties that bind can easily wind and re the ways that we take and mis the words that bliss will spin from lips but be as that and may as it will I’ll spill those thoughts as I chance those takes and happy may I be for such opportunities as who can tell when the lines may up again the standards may not bear such weight for waving the hike’s not meant for caving and I could tell you more but you’d have to sleep right through it and I’d be hard-pressed not to move it on my own—yes, there are thrones and there is sitting, there are yarns and there is knitting, but the weaving that’s ongoing is a something else entirely and I’d rather just marvel than continue with any sort of rhyme scheme. End punctuation shocks. There is something uncanny. I’m pleased. We pay no fees for this pleasure and the measure comes without expectation while a grateful nation carries on its course with horse and buggy bucketing nuggets of wisdom fizzling ways to wade through the river and challenge the giver and other such texts with disappointing endings, depending on who you are and how you think—but off into the brink, there’s a stumbling wonder and the light is bright in the dark of surprise, with blinking eyes and unexpecting unexpected just a deep sigh satisfaction something like contentment for what is at the moment even just a moment and no worry about the whatelse and the anythingmore and tomorrowthen the everyonewho and wheneverthat just rightnow veryfine juicy and all that thanks