One By Three

One By Three

I’m not that type writer

Deleting doubts

Selecting emotional sure-shots

More like I’d subject you

Into celebrating natural selection

Focused directions westerly intimating

Tables hold things and chairs hold people

Ideally, one page feeds at a time

Avoiding jams of traffic, raspberry and paper

And fish of cats and dogs and

Monks with bowls turned up or down

Permeating skin surface dreaming

Under all the misconceived ideas

I have ever imagined inside one dream

Or one day of calamity clamoring through

Then no more ever

Only questions without fear of retired retributed

Crossed purposes and redirected ingredients

Listed one by one because

nothing is ever one by two or

one by three

sitting standing walking lying

on a rug, like a rug

cutting said carpet with culinary academics

cleaned up or corrupted out

if you like misdirection

I am her leader

Clearer and without all the insincere

Without tears and with a sense of

Urgent sense of common matter

Not tense or insensitive

I’m culminating months like

A sandman makes glass

Sculpturing air into wind

Pine into knots

And would be’s into yesses

I’m fulminating right now

Jumping silently writing down how

And if indeed you need to follow

Choose yourself

Empower the hollow feeling

That never burns

Spark the fire

Inside your own belly

I’m not that type writer

Flot ------------- 5.9.77, I mean ten