30 december

from what's to be expected there's a misdirection in the to-do list an undone twist unravels and there's plenty left undone - here we are unstrung and there's nowhere for to blame: easy are the claims and the clam-ups, coupled with the finger-points out of joint (i was waiting on, weren't you meant to, didn't he say, she mean, we thought, anyway, any day) as the world turns ferns over a new leaf - this is as the chords grow stronger - we are all our own selves anyway - we are the people who populate the lists and take the steps, make the traditions and take down the notes - we are the authors of our own decisions and the long divisions [us/ them -- me/ all else] even as the nevermind unwinds here - let's be clear that there are also trees and breezes blowing - tomorrow alarms the clock and rocks boats for the lakes to shake clear of - i will take the same picture and drive away again - a full tank of elsewhere and nowhere else to go - plans to scandalize the hopeful watchers, no one keeping track - there are blanks on the calendar and a pocket filling with crumbs (where will the forest find an edge, where will the mountain peak?) the sky will cloud and the earth will tear in easy pieces for dipping into mirrors - clearer my eyes and ready disguises for the disappearance ready to go ready to know more than the waiting ready to do more than look ready to eat to cook to create to fill the space with deep breaths and the next deflates again even as the sand runs through and flowers run out of petals that might have been loved and not and plans that bought dust instead