justwrite 24 october
let’s say our names and take turns after each other and before the boredom sets in we can swim or sink and you think you’ll follow with a memorized blurb but to disturb the balance is unwise and the surprise will be only on your part because my heart knows and the saying goes and comes back and packs a sandwich for lunch a one-two punch with a ribbon on top clobbering the health with stealth and a side-part the victims without vitamins are adding up the letters and they C no B they free their radicals their dynamic angles trying to fry the pan without the oil suggesting term limits and firm cheeses sneezing at diseases and annexing the breezes that give the best results that sail the ships eclipsing the night with wild delight a black cherry ferry carting before the horse loses the course and gallops like a bunch of grapes on fire with desire to be eaten to sweeten the tongue of some unsung hero an emperor nero would have wanted to meet a street with a distant name claiming some other fame with the sense of a modified ending an adjective sending a thrill through the nouns or the other way around and pretending the cases are only just in
justwrite 23 october
while the time changes its name we are monthing in years our minutes fear no hourglasses the trash is taken out and the doubts amount to nothing we are not rushing through the wilderness with our ears on fire we see and we taste each phase fully the moon is in tune with the present and the pheasants fly into other state birds having heard the ruckus and having come among us to integrate to investigate to contemplate the sense of cheese and the reason for curd the herd of cows having heard of cows was fairly self-aware and staring in the face of an itchy toe there was no time like now and how and why were two more surprises worth disguising but there would be no compromising just rocket-stocked barrels the terrells and the owens blowing their way out of television the screening having been failed and the markets to no avail being propped up while the corn crops up and the mazes are a-bloom by the room in my mouth you can tell that I’ve shouted enough for today while the volume was quiet the try-it badge was passed with flying numbers and blazing colors the glory and the story telling itself reliving its health amassing its wealth under the covers waiting for the clovers to bloom waiting for the actors to assume their roles and pay their tolls while the bridge won’t cross itself and the priest can’t just live on health we have got to pipe the single-payer system and to hype the clear water in a cistern the sistine a chapel mapped out in a trap for apples and how’d you like that idi-o-matic
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
post 22 october
justwrite 22 october
now we are moving on with our lives our chives are arriving in time without potatoes the state of the confusion united with illusions let me tell you if you up those stairs you’ll get stared down and crowns of clowns will surround your smile the style will not come in until the ship swims the chip potatoes its own scheme the themes for English b are read and instead of being written by Langston Hughes the news of the day will say different letters and sometimes numbers in time seldom told well folded on a Thursday a rehearsed stay at a posh date and the wait until it changes is arranged in advance by a dance of blocks ticking the tock and walking the rock they’ve got a new way to play that ball and to call all the kettles until they’re nettled is a black art that blows some wind for no good reason and the beans sneeze into their knees freezing at the least chance of summer bumming its way toward the beach out of reach of months and years and fears tearing up at the slightest vegetable the well full of water but the pump won’t start and the heart laughing with otters and a broken sense of smart all those tricks traded in for a new pair of shoes a parachute into out of and through
justwrite 21 october
we have fevers that shiver our timbers into limber logs lost into hogged houses the cabins grabbing up maple syrup and triumphing accidentally in the meanwhile while a clean smile distracts from the yakkety-yak you can’t talk back or then they’ll know and then you’ll show your missing socket clocked in with all the leftover eyes having it having a day to pay playfully the rued way splayed on the sidewalk cracking itself up paying its health back in spades with made in the shade deals unreal like cards hard to pick the right one but to send the sun packing is to track in mud without intentional disrespect the intellect is not respected just the collected works of a thousand jobs and lives arriving all together at the same line the corner picking up a newspaper and hiding into smiles and ribbons flailing about in a constantplaying video no reason to see through to the other side nothing to hide on this one no water as clear as the wideopen sea treed into rivers bigger at the mouth trickling south and about into the confusion of illusion but when I come back to the present the hands stretched to the grab bar go far to show how tentative the mold how tenacious the hold we have different faces but we hold on tight in the light of turns and burned memories when we see our own faces in each others shoes we imagine the use of a new polish the quality in question the mentions not gotten in order the citations of nations united and divided again in mla format
justwrite 20 october
let us start with the trash we cash in on pawning off our longgone suggestions in differentiated directions we make our own corrections as we go closing the gaps with cement lent from the dentists of a bygone era a carrier pigeon of the givens in this equation we are saving our innocent smiles and crocodile whiles for their bestkept purposes the secrets rehearsed in the worst of time rhymes chimed out of sync and into linked arms calm like a storm quarreling with stony faces and distant embraces waiting for our turn earning our timetable serving as we’re able and saving credits to feed in need of recognition an easier mission than the one on the menu but I find myself asking for more and glorying in a story I can’t yet tell while and well and on until there’s something better to say until the way is clearer and the means are nearer to hand to command easily a breezily brisk army of words herded neatly into place and laced into intentions too complicated to mention at this point but jointed for flexibility the tendency always to hurtle forward unwarned and the morning is always later than earlier when you thought readiness was appropriate the liters the meters the parking darkening each corner we would prefer different soups we suggest surprising groups of arrangements changing statements to the best rest between quarter notes remote hopes in the whole the surprise we surmise ought to survive any set of curtains with uncertain flowers stitched on into the daylight circumstances we are buying more chances the lottery has got to be the best kept lie advertised into fact
justwrite 19 october
wax up the laugh track and slide on into hilarity the disparity between sense and unmentionable trenches through which moats carry remote consecutive numbers out of hunger and into common sense the fence too high the mile too wide spying on the thighmaster and the trying faster dasher one hundred yards from spring but still on the filled side of summer the number one again the fan and the scandal too hot to handle with a kid’s gloves shoving the grownups out of the way and staying just close enough to scuff accidental boots the troops marching in and out of green turning red instead of outside and hiding all the wide open tropes the isolated hopes of a thousand islands spying on each other and hovering into proximity arguing some proclivity toward sensitivity led them to free and easy living like a better home or garden pardoned by itself and wishing better health to all its fellow magazines storing their stories in glossy glories for watchtower bluebirds to listen to at night
now we are moving on with our lives our chives are arriving in time without potatoes the state of the confusion united with illusions let me tell you if you up those stairs you’ll get stared down and crowns of clowns will surround your smile the style will not come in until the ship swims the chip potatoes its own scheme the themes for English b are read and instead of being written by Langston Hughes the news of the day will say different letters and sometimes numbers in time seldom told well folded on a Thursday a rehearsed stay at a posh date and the wait until it changes is arranged in advance by a dance of blocks ticking the tock and walking the rock they’ve got a new way to play that ball and to call all the kettles until they’re nettled is a black art that blows some wind for no good reason and the beans sneeze into their knees freezing at the least chance of summer bumming its way toward the beach out of reach of months and years and fears tearing up at the slightest vegetable the well full of water but the pump won’t start and the heart laughing with otters and a broken sense of smart all those tricks traded in for a new pair of shoes a parachute into out of and through
justwrite 21 october
we have fevers that shiver our timbers into limber logs lost into hogged houses the cabins grabbing up maple syrup and triumphing accidentally in the meanwhile while a clean smile distracts from the yakkety-yak you can’t talk back or then they’ll know and then you’ll show your missing socket clocked in with all the leftover eyes having it having a day to pay playfully the rued way splayed on the sidewalk cracking itself up paying its health back in spades with made in the shade deals unreal like cards hard to pick the right one but to send the sun packing is to track in mud without intentional disrespect the intellect is not respected just the collected works of a thousand jobs and lives arriving all together at the same line the corner picking up a newspaper and hiding into smiles and ribbons flailing about in a constantplaying video no reason to see through to the other side nothing to hide on this one no water as clear as the wideopen sea treed into rivers bigger at the mouth trickling south and about into the confusion of illusion but when I come back to the present the hands stretched to the grab bar go far to show how tentative the mold how tenacious the hold we have different faces but we hold on tight in the light of turns and burned memories when we see our own faces in each others shoes we imagine the use of a new polish the quality in question the mentions not gotten in order the citations of nations united and divided again in mla format
justwrite 20 october
let us start with the trash we cash in on pawning off our longgone suggestions in differentiated directions we make our own corrections as we go closing the gaps with cement lent from the dentists of a bygone era a carrier pigeon of the givens in this equation we are saving our innocent smiles and crocodile whiles for their bestkept purposes the secrets rehearsed in the worst of time rhymes chimed out of sync and into linked arms calm like a storm quarreling with stony faces and distant embraces waiting for our turn earning our timetable serving as we’re able and saving credits to feed in need of recognition an easier mission than the one on the menu but I find myself asking for more and glorying in a story I can’t yet tell while and well and on until there’s something better to say until the way is clearer and the means are nearer to hand to command easily a breezily brisk army of words herded neatly into place and laced into intentions too complicated to mention at this point but jointed for flexibility the tendency always to hurtle forward unwarned and the morning is always later than earlier when you thought readiness was appropriate the liters the meters the parking darkening each corner we would prefer different soups we suggest surprising groups of arrangements changing statements to the best rest between quarter notes remote hopes in the whole the surprise we surmise ought to survive any set of curtains with uncertain flowers stitched on into the daylight circumstances we are buying more chances the lottery has got to be the best kept lie advertised into fact
justwrite 19 october
wax up the laugh track and slide on into hilarity the disparity between sense and unmentionable trenches through which moats carry remote consecutive numbers out of hunger and into common sense the fence too high the mile too wide spying on the thighmaster and the trying faster dasher one hundred yards from spring but still on the filled side of summer the number one again the fan and the scandal too hot to handle with a kid’s gloves shoving the grownups out of the way and staying just close enough to scuff accidental boots the troops marching in and out of green turning red instead of outside and hiding all the wide open tropes the isolated hopes of a thousand islands spying on each other and hovering into proximity arguing some proclivity toward sensitivity led them to free and easy living like a better home or garden pardoned by itself and wishing better health to all its fellow magazines storing their stories in glossy glories for watchtower bluebirds to listen to at night
Sunday, October 18, 2009
post 18 october- 2
justwrite 18 october
the pages turn in earnest now picking up the page the rage of an oblong summer stretching out of reach and keeping in time the whine of the wheels steeling miles and acres the kilometers without conversion urging forward the backward glances we are taking everyone else’s chances and our own as well and the flowers in the window are just for your own imaginings there are no bringers and your fingers may be cold but the gold standard is yours for the asking tasking each chance glancing in and out of trance to be tested and bested repeatedly but still to jump in with wings of lions no lack of trying here and the clear fear of danger like a middle name unclaimed in the lottery a rose for no nose to grow on the strong will smell out the weak and reek wreaking cheap havoc with the letters we pretend to send ourselves our finer elves investing in Christmas and also new years a-plenty I am filling up the closet and the shelves and each parcel is ready to be backpacked along while the destination is unclear the steering will be forward the armor will be over all and call for suggestions in direction without appearing lost without costing bossing around because nobody likes that nobody wears hats too big for ego too altered for a halter top to crop in that sort of weather too many feathers for just one cap
the pages turn in earnest now picking up the page the rage of an oblong summer stretching out of reach and keeping in time the whine of the wheels steeling miles and acres the kilometers without conversion urging forward the backward glances we are taking everyone else’s chances and our own as well and the flowers in the window are just for your own imaginings there are no bringers and your fingers may be cold but the gold standard is yours for the asking tasking each chance glancing in and out of trance to be tested and bested repeatedly but still to jump in with wings of lions no lack of trying here and the clear fear of danger like a middle name unclaimed in the lottery a rose for no nose to grow on the strong will smell out the weak and reek wreaking cheap havoc with the letters we pretend to send ourselves our finer elves investing in Christmas and also new years a-plenty I am filling up the closet and the shelves and each parcel is ready to be backpacked along while the destination is unclear the steering will be forward the armor will be over all and call for suggestions in direction without appearing lost without costing bossing around because nobody likes that nobody wears hats too big for ego too altered for a halter top to crop in that sort of weather too many feathers for just one cap
justwrite 18 october
justwrite 17 october
when the apples count their miles the style is in fashion the cash-in value is less than advertised the surprise of a thousand capitals lettered like litter literally unforgiven the bigness of repetition I am tripping over reality the cows we see under trees are listening to their own reflections in the future direction we see ourselves on shelves and we are afraid to pick we take compote from a jar and imagine far-off pronunciation but this is the fear the fear that steers into trees and brings you to your own knees the sneeze of a separate letter is like one that will never be sent bent out of shape the escape into gladness and the suggestion of misdirection is one slight scent from a tree we can’t see there are fees we can’t pay there is no way to craft a raft up that river we shiver with the fright of delight are we waiting in the night for a bite from some other apple can the steeple be far from the falling waters calling all authors to write the bright light into action the traction not yet in place the ice nice enough to wait a few clicks later there are alligators in the sink and the brink of destruction means so much to a muffin it blows its top and rocks its socks off into the great wet west at the least behest of the most glorious reckoning beckoning the decks to get on all hands and knead the knees into bentback shape
justwrite 16 october
let’s talk about fall the call of the wild hiding a child’s smile in a wild embrace of leaves the sleeves trailing across noses supposing roses moses forgot to pack and the forty thieves laugh like a raccoon in a swoon over too much butter your mother called and asked me to stall you until the weather clears for she fears your health is a jeopardy game and you always forget to say what or who and you know she means well but it’s swell enough to ask and it’s not for me to answer to take such a chance with a backward-legged dancer we are going to the diner we are eating cherry pie there where there is nothing finer than the best coffee the taste of toffee wrapped up in pleasure measured in the morning and cataloged without warning by passing anthropologists if you don’t mind please just pose if you could indulge us let’s just suppose that no one’s here watching and you’re going about your own imagined business the forgiveness you’ll have to muster takes a different cake for the mistakes adding up the cups and liters and parking meters we are always trying and our eggs are frying in a plural sense unable to make tenses go away or to invite the cases to internally stay they are taking their own time they are suggesting other recipes and they just don’t want to grow up to give up to sup on tired soup
when the apples count their miles the style is in fashion the cash-in value is less than advertised the surprise of a thousand capitals lettered like litter literally unforgiven the bigness of repetition I am tripping over reality the cows we see under trees are listening to their own reflections in the future direction we see ourselves on shelves and we are afraid to pick we take compote from a jar and imagine far-off pronunciation but this is the fear the fear that steers into trees and brings you to your own knees the sneeze of a separate letter is like one that will never be sent bent out of shape the escape into gladness and the suggestion of misdirection is one slight scent from a tree we can’t see there are fees we can’t pay there is no way to craft a raft up that river we shiver with the fright of delight are we waiting in the night for a bite from some other apple can the steeple be far from the falling waters calling all authors to write the bright light into action the traction not yet in place the ice nice enough to wait a few clicks later there are alligators in the sink and the brink of destruction means so much to a muffin it blows its top and rocks its socks off into the great wet west at the least behest of the most glorious reckoning beckoning the decks to get on all hands and knead the knees into bentback shape
justwrite 16 october
let’s talk about fall the call of the wild hiding a child’s smile in a wild embrace of leaves the sleeves trailing across noses supposing roses moses forgot to pack and the forty thieves laugh like a raccoon in a swoon over too much butter your mother called and asked me to stall you until the weather clears for she fears your health is a jeopardy game and you always forget to say what or who and you know she means well but it’s swell enough to ask and it’s not for me to answer to take such a chance with a backward-legged dancer we are going to the diner we are eating cherry pie there where there is nothing finer than the best coffee the taste of toffee wrapped up in pleasure measured in the morning and cataloged without warning by passing anthropologists if you don’t mind please just pose if you could indulge us let’s just suppose that no one’s here watching and you’re going about your own imagined business the forgiveness you’ll have to muster takes a different cake for the mistakes adding up the cups and liters and parking meters we are always trying and our eggs are frying in a plural sense unable to make tenses go away or to invite the cases to internally stay they are taking their own time they are suggesting other recipes and they just don’t want to grow up to give up to sup on tired soup
Thursday, October 15, 2009
post 15 october
justwrite 15 october
the clover fields another ball calling all the acorns into their hidey holes stolen out of summer and tucked to fall into winter no hint of mints or green freshness of any kind blind to the sun and unstrung by young digits adding up to a couple more scoring all the stores into a row holding her own their stones thrown away along the mulberry bush the push forward warning all the army against false moves clues collected and rejected in search of the professor messing up the billiard room the plums swooning over mustard and wrenching a monopoly of hearts from the departed company while we sweep up the cobblestones overgrown with prosperity there are too many broths in this soup too many elbows to regroup out of task and time and to find an answer is a strong romancer no respecter of circumstance the backward glance forward is a new word understood and when I heard her said she fed her fish with money I laughed at the honeytree and called for more while the store kept closing on my foot and the frustration of such a trench unmentioned until too late the date has called itself out has doubted to play as a thing to ring a rosie and suppose the growing is unsolicited with revision revisited while the bigness of the idea leads on the fruit slices up the pursuit of a greater answer the dancing chances out of time with the pace rhythm space like a diamond in the sky too high to reach for too useless to preach for while still we stretch we catch ourselves in the mirror and smile while the style has not yet gone out
justwrite 14 october
time passes by into lands of seven the weaving grieving its passage into the masses of one the armies of brightlight the darkness of notnight I am waiting for the heat to turn on gone again are the days of crazy haze the dirt roads exploding from the paved center the bent trenches with their dents unmentionable salads the ballads I can not sing into tune the moon crooning its own penitentiary the bars carved out of accidental pastings the water onto the wall the stall onto the shower every hour the water boils more rice tastes more nice than language can tell the well runs dry like a firefly unimaginable the tragic angle dangling items of interest the beginningest of the end signs and they’re all in another tongue traced in the paint the state of confusion the union of illusion with reality the tragedy of no one hearing the steeping keeping up with the churchtower all the wallflowers growing along the vines keeping time with the tea and the free concert with the hurt chorus keeps its glorious pace putting colds in their places on wideopen faces we’re all surprised by subtitles we have no money for honey but the garlic keeps coming we’re running out of fingers but the cold is only now not soon not then not when
justwrite 13 october
I am too far away from the keys the need to strike and be stuck amok running and engines humming forward I have heart the echo of the sound that abounds around around the sense jumping each fence to a broken lock and into the key the monster swimming around and correcting the lessons marking the notes mis-hit and rose-hipped out of bounds swinging this way and that cat has too many hats for this apartment he’d better take the penthouse a bent mouse none the wiser a sad surpriser with a happy ending pretending to imagine a tragedy but really just thinking of crumpets with tea the rolls holding their own and cloning imagined taste the face of a thousand smiles a sunflower aisle to walk down and talk town shop mop cleaning it all up scuffing the granola and seeking payola in the form of normalcy the hours have changed the rearranged leaves have left and what we’ve got in this spot is not a lot like applesauce but the boss leaves the roof down and clowns cruise their own town jumping out and bus stops and hopping onto popcorn ferries the cherries of the fleet meeting each hand with a shake and the same with milk and that sort of ilk quick enough to stir but slow enough to malt without halting let us drink sips and sing summer in the rain the cold the degrees breezing downward I can feel the taste nothing to waste no haste to be made just to smile in the shade
the clover fields another ball calling all the acorns into their hidey holes stolen out of summer and tucked to fall into winter no hint of mints or green freshness of any kind blind to the sun and unstrung by young digits adding up to a couple more scoring all the stores into a row holding her own their stones thrown away along the mulberry bush the push forward warning all the army against false moves clues collected and rejected in search of the professor messing up the billiard room the plums swooning over mustard and wrenching a monopoly of hearts from the departed company while we sweep up the cobblestones overgrown with prosperity there are too many broths in this soup too many elbows to regroup out of task and time and to find an answer is a strong romancer no respecter of circumstance the backward glance forward is a new word understood and when I heard her said she fed her fish with money I laughed at the honeytree and called for more while the store kept closing on my foot and the frustration of such a trench unmentioned until too late the date has called itself out has doubted to play as a thing to ring a rosie and suppose the growing is unsolicited with revision revisited while the bigness of the idea leads on the fruit slices up the pursuit of a greater answer the dancing chances out of time with the pace rhythm space like a diamond in the sky too high to reach for too useless to preach for while still we stretch we catch ourselves in the mirror and smile while the style has not yet gone out
justwrite 14 october
time passes by into lands of seven the weaving grieving its passage into the masses of one the armies of brightlight the darkness of notnight I am waiting for the heat to turn on gone again are the days of crazy haze the dirt roads exploding from the paved center the bent trenches with their dents unmentionable salads the ballads I can not sing into tune the moon crooning its own penitentiary the bars carved out of accidental pastings the water onto the wall the stall onto the shower every hour the water boils more rice tastes more nice than language can tell the well runs dry like a firefly unimaginable the tragic angle dangling items of interest the beginningest of the end signs and they’re all in another tongue traced in the paint the state of confusion the union of illusion with reality the tragedy of no one hearing the steeping keeping up with the churchtower all the wallflowers growing along the vines keeping time with the tea and the free concert with the hurt chorus keeps its glorious pace putting colds in their places on wideopen faces we’re all surprised by subtitles we have no money for honey but the garlic keeps coming we’re running out of fingers but the cold is only now not soon not then not when
justwrite 13 october
I am too far away from the keys the need to strike and be stuck amok running and engines humming forward I have heart the echo of the sound that abounds around around the sense jumping each fence to a broken lock and into the key the monster swimming around and correcting the lessons marking the notes mis-hit and rose-hipped out of bounds swinging this way and that cat has too many hats for this apartment he’d better take the penthouse a bent mouse none the wiser a sad surpriser with a happy ending pretending to imagine a tragedy but really just thinking of crumpets with tea the rolls holding their own and cloning imagined taste the face of a thousand smiles a sunflower aisle to walk down and talk town shop mop cleaning it all up scuffing the granola and seeking payola in the form of normalcy the hours have changed the rearranged leaves have left and what we’ve got in this spot is not a lot like applesauce but the boss leaves the roof down and clowns cruise their own town jumping out and bus stops and hopping onto popcorn ferries the cherries of the fleet meeting each hand with a shake and the same with milk and that sort of ilk quick enough to stir but slow enough to malt without halting let us drink sips and sing summer in the rain the cold the degrees breezing downward I can feel the taste nothing to waste no haste to be made just to smile in the shade
Monday, October 12, 2009
post 12 october
justwrite 12 october
I have got to clock this rock tock this stopwatch I am caught in the crosswalk and the ticktock sunflower power of seeds in my teeth multiplies disguising the surprise I thought I felt in my fingers kept lingering over a trigger bigger and badder than the maddest hare you ever did pull out of your rushing brush out of touch with the hole falling in through the whole out of touch with the rolling blackouts the track shouts its forgiveness and I am ready to accept the intellect collecting here is out of touch the machine we preen and carry in our arms is no help with this wealth of ignorance in the bigness of the moment the size surprises even the softest listener glistening in a thousand reflections the conversion not yet charted the train not yet departed from another station the information gathered just a smattering of small matters gathered in surprise the ayes have not got it together the wise are subtracting extra letters keeping their slippers on and their apples tied tight my clothes are fresh and made of air kept crisp like the ironless hand of a wrinkly man the settlement is ready to be retrieved too young to be believed but it is mature it is sure and tidy and the neatness hiding within is ready to begin again like the sense looking to make itself out of nearby spare parts
justwrite 11 october
now it’s time to climb into the tree and to sack all the socks to keep up the stock we are wondering where we are wandering all our pondering is for naught we ought to keep up but the stuff of dreams is caramel cream with sugar in the middle and to fiddle with three fingers is to twiddle one thumb coming undone like a blanket in the night held tight by some distant sleeper rolling over and over the ocean bonnie like a prince like a filly running hither and yon and on and beyond the calm the fall like a tide an ocean of closing in tighter then drifting like sand in between hands planted like a plant and pulled like a pulley there are things so clear we can’t even see them we know them like our own we skin our own home planet and can it to keep it like a secret place saving face for another time when it’s warmer and the disorder of the present tense seems hardly worth mentioning I am talking about language I am stepping into puddles there is trouble falling from the sky but inside it is warmer and the tea comes safe with honey right lemon on the money like a soap opera adopting a different sense of sense too distant too resistant to interpretation too leading into fascination that the complications can not be told aloud can not be shuffled into a crowd and kept waiting I am dating the sidewalk several thousand bc and the tv is on into the bright while the white light takes its own sweet time and the sun pretends tomorrow while it waits and preens its rays
justwrite 10 october
I have washed the cost of living right out of forgiveness the thickness of a sense worth mentioning is too tense to defend to deliver such a shiver down mine spine is a line in the sand I can’t stand to cross with a dot and mark with a line just fine we’re feeling we’re stealing our circles out of the sky and the clouds too high for flying buy kites and keep trying to wonder how it’s going to blow like the weather too tired to fire up the wire and line the walk with sides the wide water the hired daughter and the borrowed son the undone rhyme skips syllables an unforgettable regret I have yet to tell you how well you ought to be doing I am brewing another key a pot of tea a coffee free and clear and here there’s more to say in another way and the stay is the leaving and the freezing is only clean clothes the show is going on the strong song sung in time has a mind of its own a tone sixteen tons undone and the library is closing but if you suppose the cars will make it far enough then you will know how to go to the upper deck and collect the fridge points the prize and the thigh-high apple trees breezing through the oranges turning yellow like a fellow traveler and thinking this is what I like to drink and blinking how I fill the sink with clean
justwrite 9 october
no chase to space this brace
a cased joint unbroken
a token key turned into a fare
unaware of spacing issues
of oncoming tissues
we have opened our mouths again
to a separate case
just to face the end
to lend an ear
a steer clear off the farm
away from harm
and straight through the clear blue elsewhere
up in the clear air
the fear to prepare incorrectly
the directly right bite
from the front of the apple
nothing the matter but lost in the sauce
we are tossed like a saladfresh ballad
eager to please
each wave through the trees
I have got to clock this rock tock this stopwatch I am caught in the crosswalk and the ticktock sunflower power of seeds in my teeth multiplies disguising the surprise I thought I felt in my fingers kept lingering over a trigger bigger and badder than the maddest hare you ever did pull out of your rushing brush out of touch with the hole falling in through the whole out of touch with the rolling blackouts the track shouts its forgiveness and I am ready to accept the intellect collecting here is out of touch the machine we preen and carry in our arms is no help with this wealth of ignorance in the bigness of the moment the size surprises even the softest listener glistening in a thousand reflections the conversion not yet charted the train not yet departed from another station the information gathered just a smattering of small matters gathered in surprise the ayes have not got it together the wise are subtracting extra letters keeping their slippers on and their apples tied tight my clothes are fresh and made of air kept crisp like the ironless hand of a wrinkly man the settlement is ready to be retrieved too young to be believed but it is mature it is sure and tidy and the neatness hiding within is ready to begin again like the sense looking to make itself out of nearby spare parts
justwrite 11 october
now it’s time to climb into the tree and to sack all the socks to keep up the stock we are wondering where we are wandering all our pondering is for naught we ought to keep up but the stuff of dreams is caramel cream with sugar in the middle and to fiddle with three fingers is to twiddle one thumb coming undone like a blanket in the night held tight by some distant sleeper rolling over and over the ocean bonnie like a prince like a filly running hither and yon and on and beyond the calm the fall like a tide an ocean of closing in tighter then drifting like sand in between hands planted like a plant and pulled like a pulley there are things so clear we can’t even see them we know them like our own we skin our own home planet and can it to keep it like a secret place saving face for another time when it’s warmer and the disorder of the present tense seems hardly worth mentioning I am talking about language I am stepping into puddles there is trouble falling from the sky but inside it is warmer and the tea comes safe with honey right lemon on the money like a soap opera adopting a different sense of sense too distant too resistant to interpretation too leading into fascination that the complications can not be told aloud can not be shuffled into a crowd and kept waiting I am dating the sidewalk several thousand bc and the tv is on into the bright while the white light takes its own sweet time and the sun pretends tomorrow while it waits and preens its rays
justwrite 10 october
I have washed the cost of living right out of forgiveness the thickness of a sense worth mentioning is too tense to defend to deliver such a shiver down mine spine is a line in the sand I can’t stand to cross with a dot and mark with a line just fine we’re feeling we’re stealing our circles out of the sky and the clouds too high for flying buy kites and keep trying to wonder how it’s going to blow like the weather too tired to fire up the wire and line the walk with sides the wide water the hired daughter and the borrowed son the undone rhyme skips syllables an unforgettable regret I have yet to tell you how well you ought to be doing I am brewing another key a pot of tea a coffee free and clear and here there’s more to say in another way and the stay is the leaving and the freezing is only clean clothes the show is going on the strong song sung in time has a mind of its own a tone sixteen tons undone and the library is closing but if you suppose the cars will make it far enough then you will know how to go to the upper deck and collect the fridge points the prize and the thigh-high apple trees breezing through the oranges turning yellow like a fellow traveler and thinking this is what I like to drink and blinking how I fill the sink with clean
justwrite 9 october
no chase to space this brace
a cased joint unbroken
a token key turned into a fare
unaware of spacing issues
of oncoming tissues
we have opened our mouths again
to a separate case
just to face the end
to lend an ear
a steer clear off the farm
away from harm
and straight through the clear blue elsewhere
up in the clear air
the fear to prepare incorrectly
the directly right bite
from the front of the apple
nothing the matter but lost in the sauce
we are tossed like a saladfresh ballad
eager to please
each wave through the trees
Saturday, October 10, 2009
post 10 october
justwrite 8 october
apples in the sun undone by sauce tick their tocks and toggle each switch to up rising to surprising heights holding hands in the night and through the day way on down the up line twine tied and hearts high in the air let them stare and care more than their share the hair I’ve seen has no queen no root but its own horn tooted in disgusted triumph I am hoping to tell you all the news the truths and the youth of the nation in fascination from a distance are relying on your resistance to immunity your proclivity for jumping in to swim up the other way to stay on course of track the force is strong along the sidewalk the curb having edged the hedge you have got to know the show and the tickets and you lick it once shame on the stamp damp and wondering in wandering succession the lessons having been learned into passive leaning the cases too dated to name too accusative to claim on any outcome tax the income lax at this point having missed the twist we used to do again last summer but the numbers still are rolling and the sunlight still is strolling dance with me in elegant geometry the tendency to see your air breathed in close warm no storm like that cloud too loud too flexible the allowable credit can’t let it take form but the norm is something reasonable and the fees are not unfeasible
justwrite 7 october
now is the time we rhyme our crimes with forgiveness of ourselves the bigness of our hearts encompassing our charts our cherry tarts swept clean away in the dark we are our own rewards our wardens our imagined enemies the entities we have replaced in the space where our entwined confined tastes bite their tongues unstrung along like clockwork in the thickwitted months ahead better instead to invest not yet to buy with both hands the command no less demanding of understanding than a sweater minus two thumbs coming undone at the ear the unwinding minding its own wax and bees as well yelling remotely for a change of program forgiving the guide but hiding inside of a hollow tree we are three too many for this chair from where I sit and the fit too loose for such a goose to mend itself to defend its health against all comers the colors by numbers where the answers are seven and green and a window in between clear and wide and open
justwrite 6 october
now when the time comes
we strum our songs
longer than any imagining
the strategy not quite
forthcoming
mindnumb
tired of firing
apples in the sun undone by sauce tick their tocks and toggle each switch to up rising to surprising heights holding hands in the night and through the day way on down the up line twine tied and hearts high in the air let them stare and care more than their share the hair I’ve seen has no queen no root but its own horn tooted in disgusted triumph I am hoping to tell you all the news the truths and the youth of the nation in fascination from a distance are relying on your resistance to immunity your proclivity for jumping in to swim up the other way to stay on course of track the force is strong along the sidewalk the curb having edged the hedge you have got to know the show and the tickets and you lick it once shame on the stamp damp and wondering in wandering succession the lessons having been learned into passive leaning the cases too dated to name too accusative to claim on any outcome tax the income lax at this point having missed the twist we used to do again last summer but the numbers still are rolling and the sunlight still is strolling dance with me in elegant geometry the tendency to see your air breathed in close warm no storm like that cloud too loud too flexible the allowable credit can’t let it take form but the norm is something reasonable and the fees are not unfeasible
justwrite 7 october
now is the time we rhyme our crimes with forgiveness of ourselves the bigness of our hearts encompassing our charts our cherry tarts swept clean away in the dark we are our own rewards our wardens our imagined enemies the entities we have replaced in the space where our entwined confined tastes bite their tongues unstrung along like clockwork in the thickwitted months ahead better instead to invest not yet to buy with both hands the command no less demanding of understanding than a sweater minus two thumbs coming undone at the ear the unwinding minding its own wax and bees as well yelling remotely for a change of program forgiving the guide but hiding inside of a hollow tree we are three too many for this chair from where I sit and the fit too loose for such a goose to mend itself to defend its health against all comers the colors by numbers where the answers are seven and green and a window in between clear and wide and open
justwrite 6 october
now when the time comes
we strum our songs
longer than any imagining
the strategy not quite
forthcoming
mindnumb
tired of firing
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