people set blowing then rode words over against that they started hardened that they'll finish tricks of steering and vsion in blue but natural rading of if comes lapping altered distraction factor makes me sad what say you?

visual cue

a grange syllabus for effort, when we felt constrained. we looked at dad, the meaning of interest while wearing a tie. the tie signified a generation felt more home. there becomes (then or now) a mothering father or more, when you have time inside. inside is when you agree. you and me, with taking hold and only our hands mean anything. a word isn't really cousin to anything yet, but we like to think. we like to point at the truth of black, or green, sometimes. awake and shining, for the effect becomes residual when delivered, like a stream before the melt completes. we have our hands, and the certainty of naming. we marry our days, and into them see long shadows. those shadows are beautiful, with just theory showing example. when we feel implored, it's another day! another even might follow. we could institute some plan, trade off worry for a few drinks of coldest water, and wait for spring. does that sound nice, like a smile, the recognition we've always really had. slyly, some other words attend the moment too.

a poem like crazy until it was just the colour of grass. the playing of instant, while words resumed some set, bridging, token inference. we stayed late into the day, provoking ideas and tides. we felt useful in certain crumbs and the nature of dark snow on the bending aloofness of whichever nearest looming tree caught our eye. sullen and distinct while a few snatches of song alight in deference to a moment or two. departure includes many details, but love seems to round out the pleasure of just speaking together. we have our time, after all, tho time has us. a poem beyond a word suffices, until we can all hold hands again.

I have made a list of
things you can do
that will tell me that
you love me


I call it
a strategy
so you won't
lose hope