Seeing forms a way of going through your pockets.

Wrong word dancing to the inside outside sound of scraping urban cleaning tools. If this is a way to draw focus then untie those sneakers, they’re not tight enough to need them, anyway. From a place where there’s no matter where the issue is included in the box or in the envelope of changing misers staring at you wondering if maybe you are right or did you step down off the trolley just a bit too soon? One word in your ear comes back out your mouth with a sting in it. You are pretty sure, but you’re not completely sure. There are things to do. Even if the bottom is the top again. Carry me across the long prairie.

Doing this makes it be something. There is something in between the something there and not. Go rest carelessly in jeans and a T-shirt slumping forward and then if there is a question it is probably more money that will solve it. If you’re doing something then you might believe that there is meaning. Well, there is all the time and it’s rolling like a quarter off the table. Water in a glass. You can see it even though it isn’t there. Like air. All the things you need essentially sometimes are invisible. But you’re able to detect them. Grief and worry and a bit of salty peanuts and a dime store memory and spoons for eating cereal and soup, but not for what you think. Dime stores don’t exist out there.

What is a drop of water? How can air be made smaller? There’s an elephant in my pajamas. There’s a telephone in my pajamas. There is sleeping and a notion. There are horns. Do they mean it? Everything is nothing is whatever is the matter? Chewing. Complements of the house. Steak tartar and the worry beads and cards on the table upset the decanter on the floor liquid spilling is like stuff that flows through you and keeps you going where you do not know but someone seems to care about it all.

John Lennon is a something. From a long time. There will be a show tonight through somewhere’s gate of knowing. There is knowing that is made up knowing and there is. Choosing from the things that do not matter. Organ wheal of death is playing scene one act one once again for real this time it’s going to be just the way that you forget it you will always and that’s just the point of the river. Dawn. Masters are disasters. Reaching not beseeching you the way that it is smooth is important let it go and watch it sail away in the wind and come back to you like sound reflections off a building.

The impact of awards on you. The mystery of canon follows the convention broken by the new ones setting up the stake without knowing they are doing that, the concrete sets them into place. There is he and there is she. There is something in between them. There is someone saying something about something they would like for you to do it how they said that you should do it, can you do it that way, please? I think not, said the crow.