justwrite 13 september

baking up the bikery we are greening the sidewalks we are talking the organic walk in rows of prosey roses all set to bloom where they are enchanted planted in their feet firmly the ground over their heads under the hedges the wonderland taking a stand and filling it with music sheets to the wind for the civic bandshell the trumpets never letting go of the instrumental decisions there are collisions and there are egos to be won i am letting the tide come in it's the right thing to do even if the wind blows and the breakers are all over the radio one-nine and a half step forward is worth two bloomingdales in the belfry the bats in the pudding and the corn on the cob a watch fob less traveled fairly unraveled like rapunzel's ropes which were mostly unused though her follicles were bruised slightly from the sprightly knight who stole up in delight and gave it all away like scissors in the mirror the clearer shade of spades filtered through the curtains i am hurting here and there but i'm uncertain how to compare the ace to the hearts and the club cannot be met in with those hands have you even washed your stockings have the ducklings lost their sockets when did you last plug in keep the sinners from sinking the swimming of sinkers having long since been accepted

justwrite 12 september

when we all call down we fall up together and out of touch we are in luck we jump back onto a track we might not have seen coming and we are running forward into slow motion our devotion to the seasons beyond reasons we are counting our coffee beans and considering tea we are filtering the caffeine out from the clouds the sky too loud to imagine and the energy too large to charge interest let us list our distractions and bake them in a pie when the morning opens we will serve our deserving selves with a wealth of cards and letters our own forgetters are forgiven even when we bring in the reinforcements there is no consideration no devastation we recognize what we're getting and we're sitting down for seconds and thirds and years more we are overcome again running into tires four squared and shared with enameled smiles in the style of a documentary this is me and i am in the phase of the moon that's in tune with the stream the flying machine tweaking its path to counteract the cream diluting the pollution and cooling the jets not yet we are running out of letters but never out of words it's absurd to imagine complete quiet to depict the way it's going to be before it is and how it ought to be without and with

justwrite 11 september

now then let us begin again in a paradoxical shift the lift in the uppers of which the leather is pleasure in its own original spin the position it was taking while it was making the rounds in the grass having passed again the tan hided and seeked and the meek shall do their duty their thing their ringading picnic table dances we are starting the canal is up and down in this world we have hurled our coffee cups upward and they have caught rainwater we are rushing to the falls to fill our halves to have our wholes to sole our shoes and other such fish i am wishing for another candle i am raining on a dream and the theme is openness forgiveness bigness of heart and a new towel to dry up the rest i am testing and passing we are lasting into the let me just tell you when you walk in there the lights come on and there's green and the decor is more than any milkshake could take and i know because once i was the popcorn queen but now i'm in between reigns and it's really just a situation to deal with all those colonels and their uniforms all starchy all birchy barky like they own the place like mice eat rice in the winter time all nice and tinytoothed as you know they are as they steal their cars stuffed with oatmeal and drive off into the blue mountains the close ones with color not the misty ones turning easily gently into clouds into sky

justwrite 10 september

jump another hedge and wedge the steps up and over the window pane no gain for the weary the bleary eyes surprised at another morning in awe of the light and the silence slicing through the clouds they are loud and unmoving and the usual thing is to slip into disappearance but the delirium of pasta supposes another past one without the blast of mirrors and comparison i am seeking the forgiveness for bigness of heart i can not depart without i am a trout in a lean stream and all the rainbows turn earlier corners the mourners have hung flags too tired to fly and the messages stressed are far and far between dreaming of an incandescent light the lamp of the damp pages warming up to dry turning the cleaning gleaning gentle script earlier ripped from a mind and delivered to mine the library is a tool to employ in the excavation of a latemorning sofaplace the space perfectly sized with accompanying warmth the hearth of imagination and other such metaphors never met one i didn't like but there are two or three i could pass by without complaint i am no saint and i never said i was but the buzz of a thousand bees could not make dirt into flowers if you see what i say and you mean what i play over the loudspeakers is out of tune there is noon but it's too late for morning and way too early for night although the fork's a spoon in some circles

justwrite 9 september

it is too late i am tired of retiring i am expiring from all the rhymes and the lines keep appearing faster than disaster can make excuses for i am tripping over my lips and clipping with tooloud sounds at the edges over the hedges and under the curtains i would like to be certain why the reasons are treasonous to you for i have always found them kind and understanding like soup resting two days and smiling back from your bowl in a cajoling sort of drippy love i am growing older and bumpier i have not had enough to drink and my water bottle is shaking its head which means it's time to sleep i have laid down tracks today and you are welcome to follow them around around through headphones and under the collar the ring you just can't shake on a hand that just won't take no for an answer just a yes for a please and a thank for a you

fly curly short

The fly landed on the short curly hair at the back of his neck. The man was so engrossed in his project that he did not even feel the tiny spindly legs go for a walk about. The fly stood suddenly still, frozen for a moment as the scent flooded over its body. Then, just as suddenly as it stopped before, it began a frantic rubbing, its front legs sliding together then over and over its head, absorbing the molecules of musk and pheromone. Anyone watching the fly would not have believed it possible, but the rubbing became faster and faster until there was a minuscule shudder that ran through the entire body of the fly, then it flew away. But the scent was still fresh in its insectoid mind. It had to find the source. It needed to be close to the originator of that perfume. It flew for what it thought to be hours and then landed on a soft beige/pink mountain. It froze again then took a few hesitant steps down the steepness. Finally it began rubbing itself, all over again in a kind of ecstasy. The euphoria lasted all too short of a time. The last thing it heard was a voice then it flitted off to fly heaven.
She exclaimed, "Gross! I hate flies!" as she smacked one that had landed on her chest and flicked it to the ground. Then she proceeded to rub his neck again.

justwrite 8 september

the air is turning colder there is too much conditioning
i am uncertain of whether the files will be sharp or alphabetized
the size of the swallow depends on the coconuts
i will tell you a secret if you can eat it whole
let's just say that the phone has a hook for a reason
i am sunk on this hook like a purpose without a season
pens and their caps tipped look askance at the pencils
i prefer the pencils but i am not intending to be rude
no one wants to be misunderstood with moving parts
i have a moving heart flying in your direction
the corrections will require more than thin white paint
i am pretending that this universe is parallel but brighter
while we are thinking about dinner let's imagine lunch
i am starting every other line in an egotistical style
you are hoping to make it into the other line at least once
i have got to say that i would be happy to have both lines
although having you rightbeside in the pair is sweet too
i will compromise it's a promise