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?