23 september

In the first place, while the racers were chasing down the peanut aisle, the backwater smile and the golden trial were up for the third or some other rounded base, and the smile that crossed my face was a dotted eye crackled like patina bronzed like a greener shade of pale railing against steps like they only go down when everybody knows they go both ways and it’s pretty scant praise to raise your own roof but if you only speak the truth then that’s an only life to lose that’s a wiggly tooth to use in the pursuit of some unlaughable taffy pull—get it when you can—a pelican of beakfull delight isn’t enough to stuff his face with just one bucket full of grace and just hold – as the whole world folds – it’s a steady stream of dreams when the truth runs clean and the sounds that steam the train – here we go again, and the truth be told, let it be, let it be