justwrite 24 december

Yes it’s me and I’m writing to you yes a true start an easy part to make sense of there’s nothing above and little below and I’ll have you know I’ve been thinking I’ve been blinking my eyes and wondering with surprise at why there’s any caring in such an incomparable scenario did you know it’d look like this and what are you wishing for next in the text below there’s a slow delivery of possible names it’s an easy game to play while hands keep busy but the dizzy cars out on the road now are tired and how they spin on icy toes is anybody’s guess but back to the less the more the score to keep it’d be simple enough to stay straight this late with your real name and it’s what I firstthink and there’s a pretty clear link between you and the same but what’s in a name and what’s the point of a nick if it’s the same in time as the previously lined up speakers have spouted it’s something else to tout and if the route leads from my novel creation the character stepping out from my imagination I’d have to say Vanya and that’s just right on ya close and most reasonable as a change a predictable transition to an easygoing conditional what-if but these are the normal choices and there’s a great deal of certainty that it’s an unusual person behind this name and an unusual author is doing the picking and licking the stamp to send so on that end I’d have to say Butter because clearly you’re better to me than plenty of others and easily smooth in a no-pressure groove but as a term of endearment how would you like to hear it and would you laugh every time and would I say that in public or just behind doors well what’s more there’s John which is American for you but it’s true that’s not what I pick though it’s an easy step to Jack the most common attack on John by which I mean nickname though only one letter’s the same but how’d you like to be Jack because it’s better to track your thoughts than to go out and have bought one of these without asking and then passing it along for you to try on so for now I’ll stick with Sunshine and I hope you’ll find that just fine

justwrite 23 december

The eve before the eve before the day and what’s to say how that’ll look I’m cooking up the thoughts I’m processing the food and the popcorn’s none too rude on a tea-y midnight plate the wait goes on and the work gets done the edts none the richer but the picture much more clear can I steer toward bilingual typing to be more fair can I wear different fingers and will the little one work this time just feeling fine feeling right it takes the air as the others work lifted high in aristocratic style compiling notes of what it was like to be close to the efforts for later sympathy while the work gets done beside the translations toward the next stations and the metro’s a-go-go and you know those trends continue the lessons win you the credits and the copying of answers leads to fewer dances the wolves the paid-for grades fade darker and the parking lot’s too cold to wait in the cheese is for buying and the night’s half-asleep I am deeper than I thought faster than reasonable and the season changes too but the lessons don’t pass through in the most transferrable sense this is something different this is ridiculous and I like it and if you’re reading this there’s a chance you do too and just getting through the figuring-out pokes doubts in the eye and tries not to notice the sense lacking the eggs all cracking to get started I am working I am writing I am biting my tongue and that’s a little too hard though I could say please and you might say thank you there’s a chance for a run-through if we work on our lines I bet it goes well if I turn my face thisaway that there’s a scattered chance a possible dance to do but through what means and to what ends there are safer trends to follow no one wants to go first no one wants to shout out what it could be about just a hazy allnight pleasure though a treasure indeed and not just for the rhyme so it’s time to think on nicknames and all the same it’s pretty different

justwrite 22 december

I’m not sure what to make of that steak being a vegetarian and all and I’m not sure what to call that other stake that claim made like a lemonade sideshow the undertree pleasure playing without measure to a packed house with two seats there are treats served at all hours and the comers and the goers and the swimmers and the rowers all show up and toast their bread instead of drinks they clink their links of cuffs not sausage and the applause is palatable but hard to place on a plate if there’s a dinner date to wait for then there’s much more on the schedule the meddling and the fiddling the roof aloof as always higher than thou and keeper-off of rain more than a little vain but never mind the weather it’s colder than expected and the time keeps swishing by and it’s easy if you try to walk all night to celebrate the rights of why-not and maybe-so but if you must know I’d say I’m rather baffled it’s hard to say what makes sense in the present tense and I’ll keep opening the door and I wonder after more or before else what the reasoning may be but while the seasoning is free and of reasonable flavor there’s no reason not to savor what’s delicious and the pleasure of nutritious benefits gives a bonus bounce to trounce other doubts and while I’m at it I’ll add that it’s not bad to be happy it’s sweet to be thought of and to have a face to look for it’s fine to stay up nightlong and to find out what the time’s for I have suspicions I’d rather not listen to and I have grapefruit transformed from grape if it’s mistaken that’s fine but that’s pretty sour wine if the fruit’s not right and I’d be happy to be delighted in an ongoing sense nothing too tense in the present avoiding the hesitance that comes from overthought and since I haven’t bought there’s no price tag but it doesn’t hurt to look and see what’s inside the bag

justwrite 21 december

All for your health the wealth piles up stockpiles easy smiles and this is how it goes this is how we show appreciation the fascination with tradition the conditions required for undesired verbiage scattered and what matters reassembling its rights defending its lights out policy and turning on instead we are ready for our close-ups we are joyful in our own cups and saucers this is how the sense comes undone we are sunning ourselves in mirrors when it’s far brighter outside the tide laughs and laps and around again the ground we stand on hardly handling itself keeping its faults hidden deep beneath the coral reef and the alabaster shells doing just as well as they like heading off down the pike and multiplying the dividends the deep end is close enough the listeners are bluffed and the floor’s pretty smooth a wideopen groove and the guts to say so it’s an easygoing argument to make a name to fake and a cake to bake to take raking in the proceeds feeding on those unstrung deeds we are listening we are christening and listening we are about to be finished and there’s no diminished returns we earn what we can’t spend and we borrow what we can’t lend the idea of philosophy smashed up with applesauce the pomegranates and surprises aplenty sent off to the market we are departing in peace we are catching to release what is it to be said why are the windows so open what are they hopin’ for so late in the night so clear that delight can be reached and the answers so preached always come with tags always eyes with bags beneath but those shutters those closed-up brothers of sisters asleep the creeping dawn struggling along a wrong turn an unlearned route an unimagined map the styles and the drafts always reassembled the semblance of sense and the tense space between the wondering what it means and the eating of greens we are the wearers of pajamas we are the users of the plural first person even when what’s rehearsed internally is entirely more accurate I am wearing pajamas I am creating dramas out of silence the reliance on meaning is somewhat overrated I can’t tell what’s being waited for I can’t say more at this time

justwrite 20 december

Quick while it’s still today get down those letters thread the words along the lines feeling fine and whining to dine to be done to have fun along the way is nice too but the easy truth is that the destination’s a nice place to be the trip is hardly free but with all those calling birds someone must’ve heard the passalong message the broken phones and zoning out again can’t justwrite and justlisten at the same time there’s only just and so I must be turning of this tune soon but I’m swooning with confusion and cozy in illusions we are fusing sense with clouds and it’s probably going to rain the water trains over and again the cycle trying the cannonballs flying and all the birds duck except for the swans who laugh and craft rough rafts and draft through the drift drizzling the messages out of sparkle harkening back to a different place another cityspace chasing down for attention look at these dimensions and measure as you can mark those narrow trends and settle the foundation in a new location jazz flute notwithstanding an easy landing on the midnight screen

justwrite 19 december

A day in the life of Ukraine which is this day which is any day every day we play our parts we start again again and the end never nearer the path sometimes clearer and when we steer sometimes for the best sometimes toward the west and the rest of the test-takers and those smile-fakers fall on fields fallow or hallowed the scholarly leanings the wideawake dreamings we are the surprisers the surmisers of what might be the cups full of possibly tea or leaves or wax-drip pictures the stitches and the structures the things that make you go boom-chaka-laka and-a what you say with the potatoes and the carrots the gems you want to stare at with their tired brilliance it’s hard to be shiny all of the timey and the systems put in place chase their tails never failing to flail out of step we neglect our posture and we lean slow back we counteract our twice-told tales cut off as we flail in and out of sense the tense hardly present and the past much more hesitant than the future sutured together with all-weather thread hanging on instead by a wing and a prayer and a hard-knuckled stare in the mirror with the clearer view wandering through and in and out of time we rhyme beyond sense

justwrite 18 december

It’s a holiday a-brewin’ and the somethingother brewing is hard to diagnose you’d have to be comatose not to notice but again the hocus pocus snatches off my focus and I’m adrift lifting some spirit yes and deflecting stress like a test hard-pressed to coalesce into reason there are treasonous thoughts streaming aroundabout dreaming and we are no doubt leaning in the right direction but there’s some corrections to be made and the scene may not be saved with superficial edits and if the credits start to roll then there’s nothing to be done an island in the sun and other weezer songs for singalong crash easily over the walls calling out for attention we are the makers of new dimensions we are the careeners through careers and the steerers through what’s clear the ink the mud the puddles the blood befuddled conversations and easygoing designations the use of labels is generally unstable in this day and age in this time of rage and of machines of secrets and caffeine in the latenight in the darkbright the early morning dawns unexpected with ragged edges and promises of some deeper sleep just beyond reach I can’t breach the soundtrack I can’t read the score and the glory of some other scenario is playing out next door around the corner and under the bridge could it be so simple and why must we with dimples beam out welcomes in odd directions seeking beacons and brushing off deacons I’m sorry to have to tell you if you were a tree they’d fell you and maybe that’s that but to catapult forward I am backward in my schemes the unraveling of dreams and interpretation of various stations the public radio the fading out of sense when I’m scanning down this list and crossing off with quickflicked wrist via quickbic pen then again to start again to go off into the elsewise whitherwhere it’s easy to star out the window and to watch the lights go out but if that’s what I’m writing about then it must be time to stop