31 march

drop still down hard tight fast fall fall fall deep twist breath chest catch turn fall fear faster tired lost dark down sleep still fast on on alone apart awhile afraid askance melting slipping sliding subtle single slipping going gone

30 march

parched with a wet whistle and smooth as a thistledown caterwaul the stalling we do as a call-in show grows leaps and bounds aboveground when the moon wakes up too full but the pull of the tides waxes poetic with a hectic schedule to spread across sheets and slip undercover and nobody dreams when they're dead

29 march

ran out of space and time but on the upside we can't hide in the bottom of a well so we will sink or swim in certainty the sky is still above

28 march

lights down and crickets up -- the thicket stuffed with thickest sounds -- peepers ground low and sky high in bare tree echos of nearly spring efforts that wait for the right force of rain or wind or will or sun to stun their surroundings by expanding into exploring growth and the hope of a new season while still aching cold that's bone deep --

27 march

stuffed full of potatoes and rumbled down the tumbleweed hillside into a gully a valley so low there's a throw away from a stone that groans to be gone and the loan is a strong way up to the dock while the wrong way turned is a daylight clock we'll never get ahead of -- we'll be kept well instead of -- keep the fire low or we will burn straight through too soon

26 march

just a few days and the haze will lift -- the glaze will strip the sweet oily shine from the face of every clock that talks back -- the track to a second coming close to a minute away -- stay and be delivered, stand and shiver in time with the elegant alarms ringing forth and fifth with a sixth mention of four dimensions we cannot get around at all

25 march

it's been a roller coaster of a cathedral and the short story blind man is over the edge with realism while the rest of us shrug our shoulders or tighten up in hesitated paralysis until the next alarm clocks until the next tick talks with nothing much to say but a foot to swallow whole and a salary that's doling out allotments not spend on candy canes and sugar fairs but rumpled sheets of chewing gum haywire with fired-up cinnamon and scandal riding disappointment -- cannot vent without the wish for deletion for a clean screen scrambled like busybody eggs in the backseat while we meet our apologies coming as they go --