who knows?

maybe i will run away and join the circus.

i certainly know how to walk the tightrope - constantly wondering if it will be this step or that which will misstep and send me tumbling to my doom, as i'm sure i'd miss the net.

tricky words, tricky game. is it your turn or mine? i find i'd rather stare out the window and watch the rain fall, and the paint dry on the porch swing. swinging back and forth from one who wants to play you to one who wants to just call it a game, and say you won if it would make you forget to ask me to play the next time.

too many things to rhyme. it interupts my flow.

i think 'back' and then 'sack' and 'far' and then 'tar' and there are no connections to gather the phrases into poems. so i try not to rhyme. at least, not all of the time.

would you like some sake while we reclaim our rhythm? i find it loosens the mind and sends the words drizzling out the gutter. this season brings much change. the leaves fall, the grass dies. and the bears sleep. we make cider that fills my senses with such smell, and then i sneeze. momentarily i lose my train of thought, and then i grasp at the straws of my own theology and we reset the timer and again, it's your play.

i'm watching the rain. i love the flying trapeze.