Possible Wins

Armed with enough fruit
to coin the drum beat of slot,
liberty chews at the crust of cash.
But why stop at cherry.

In step with stone
rolling mosswards
so to gather less
even in your midst
like a boulder overly attached to incline
might be never late, without 'too'.

New Blog - 'and, in fall'

I’ve started another blog as home to an ongoing writing project based on word substitution for momentum. Originally conceived as a text-art installation, for the meantime unfurling at: and, in fall.

F’2

Emptiness regained an opposite, seasoning
my mind with a high dive for lateral.

(I heard whispered how
an ounce of shoreline
weighs more than the
time to swim there plus
an inch of seaweed.)

It was getting late and sea was protesting against tide:

down
with
ebb

What sense in levelling wave.

Float…ing

On becoming separated from my ideas
I wondered if it was true that to
‘keep your head above water’ requires
a buoyant brain: more upbeat than grey
matter acknowledges.

Having discarded their armbands, those ideas
were capable of reaching some shore
by means of backstroke and wit alone.
Leaving me with a crossed mind and salt.

...then again, it depends on supply and the notion that filling your own shelves demands a revised form of independence, stacked higher in return for a purchase less petty.

If I could buy myself, who knows if I’d be equal to the acquisition.

Back Pedalling

In memory of today, I reverse my mind over this life. Hitting a pothole circa autumn '91. Notice a neglected sign: re-surfacing - expect long delays. The asphalt years.

Poepstsiimmiissmm

Putting pessimism on tenterhooks,
entices optimism to infiltrate.

Visit 40x365 - click

Names listed,
four 0 turned,
365 40s awaited: ( =s 14,600.)

I arrived yesterday at 209
and met perfect Pat.

Words, years, days, people
it all adds up.

Excitement’s cousin drops by
along with that old junkie, adrenaline.

What a drag pressure rising is. With some
front coming across all stormy. For weather,

this talk is way too small. If sun
dropped out, how laid back would we be?

Next day: over-exuberance tackles neglect.

Versions spin. Halt.
Pinpoint the looked-over.
Grind fact against fear.
Embed blame -

but not in sand, this time.

At least, last,
I can’t elaborate, but
lets say: corrugated diversions tide me over.

When I click here
it all floods back
and ‘if’ re-ignites.

Unforeseen sights travel the length of a gap:

this opening keeps me sufficiently ahead
of myself, so that when I glance back, uncovering

too much to omit, scenes become ransacked by recall
and I pocket a memory that won’t tolerate interruption.

Before long, I spread it along a sleeve and run my arm through.