the entrance is here. the intimidation of the loaded up rebellion makes this moment severe. people learn to look away. the heavy cast iron skillet fries something forever, smell of breakfast and the end of last night.
tomorrow gathers into streaming articulation: aren’t we always saying things like that? the expressive energy captures intimate knowledge and flings it thru the night of stars and wobbly planets. every adjustment clings to old ideals. beginning again, words to the effect that anything has been placed in the images that we recall.
the dream slides off the table into the waves. shift of focus, honest betrayal, lights out, returning…
returning, stroke of midnight, no one wants to leave this place alone. stroke of noon, chance, balloons associated with glee, millennial songs.
power outage, total drama, gifts and imagery.
clear-eyed, probing divided sky, innermost feelings throw light, cast doubt, open doors.
the spiel rolls into another verse, looping back, all or nothing.
can’t simply say anything, new year and old thoughts. what’s the strictly perfect essence?
the entrance is here, new day, as if any could be old. the handy facts are thru doorway, waiting, just a comment here and there.
here is a lazy morning, or desperately tired, or alone in accrued facts. there is a chance in the sun, or wait for snow, or each beat takes a perfect forever, and gives it back.
or there is nothing to say but a lot of saying…
the date is whole and beautiful because we say so.
it’s a collision, it comes to the fore, it arrives, it shows, it has to be you, it flies thru the night..
the ages indicate the constant activity, the thing we fight for, words after all.
finally detained saying, this is a memorable time…
