7 january

a date is just a day with numbers -- keep the light on when you want to see -- circulating carbon dating footprints you can't miss while the organ grinder poorly defines your views for only pennies -- when we've seen the sunrise at different times the dotted lines are harder to cut -- what a nuisance the truth seems in between heartstrokes -- broken down cattle ranches and chickens without coops -- loops to where we started and the questions once again -- where are you wishing and how do you go -- moon or sun or swimming pool -- carry your pockets and wipe your footprints -- these are the tracks you will run yourself over -- carrying trains on the wind of their song

6 january

sometimes there is the kind of connection that is not -- i am reaching but -- something like magnets, maybe? -- who put what in the pocket and all the strips went haywire -- elevator dysfunction breakfast is a rutabaga, snow eats july for dinner: freeze affects us all. merry-go the other way, flop like an easel collapsed under the weight of waiting -- a vision of schism and the sideburns to match -- carry out the cabbage patch and lock the door when gone --

5 january

in this picture there are multiple angles and also frames and in the meantime i rearranged the focus: hocus pocus and hokey pokey! holy smokes and a painted pony! let me call the kettle back in time for tea: there are decisions to be made and i forgot to bread the butter! while the table is scratched and the back is spread, i'll tell you how the jam is made: catch those cradled cats by their tails and lick away with a spoon! there's a cloudy sky and a heavy forecast: no one will dream empty now --

4 january

more answers than questions and the chance to expand -- strands of stars but only the dark to share with -- miss out and opt otherwise: no surprises to disguise the operations! the conversations and condensation all evaporate eventually. what was there to say? how much play did the dominoes get? did you see that piece that came out of nowhere? know it will never go back -- there is no fit like a kitten with lion paws -- a film no one will bake, a cake no one will scratch.

3 january

Sometimes going and going -- but will it be possible to know when you have arrived? These are puzzle pieces and new releases and infinite jets of fresh flavor and savory air bubbles and troubles aplenty and potpurri scented like something unreal -- but you feel you are losing the track and it's hard to think back to a starting gate that was too early to count for much anyway. Play your cards and try harder than the cold shoulder rolls -- let the polls close early but keep your mind on empty.

2 january

above these lines i see a note scribbled last night by my own hand but not in my own writing -- pressed between lids of sleep and the certainty of a dream that would spin into a fine tale if given the opportunity to breathe past dark -- and yet i cannot do more than honor them briefly as i am pressed between invisible forces -- vices pressing my temples at some sinful prayer too heavy for sundays and too overladen to be holy -- only the dark will help and these lines will wait as well, deeper still --

1 january

When you think about all the possibilities -- all the infinite number of directions we could possibly redirect our energy -- it's astonishing that real movement in any consistent manner actually takes place. The sense of awe and wonder overtakes me sometimes and I find I have been sitting still for several minutes. I have not seen myself as stuck, but maybe an observer would imagine so. Of course, in the presence of an observer, I might not spend so much time wallowing in reflection. To be at home more than usual is to examine the walls of one's tank -- to review the food supply, the various accessories placed inside by the zookeepers for the amusement of the occupant. Reflection again. To leave? To stay? Where else is there to be but another variation of the same -- the seeking of comfort in varying flavors, the wandering toward warmth and attention, the wonder of other worlds and paths of possibility. Fresh pages and roads ahead again, as always. Every day is a new motion, still.