Another trick

The desk become a mess. Stacks of books are a mess. Do they belong on the shelf or prefer in competing towers, sometimes they fall when I jostle the desk.

There has been a year of this and only now how have I felt I should be keeping something back, not sharing everything so instantaneously. The words fresh enough to smear.

Let the hands direct for awhile I do not want to think. Punch in and out of the rhythm, triplet interchanged with eighth notes until a break.

It is hard ever to feel I am doing enough. Horrified, numb, different then when we held lighters hot then pushed into our skin, to make a smiling scar. The phrase, always either too far off or too direct. New systems need to take over. I need money in the mean time takes over.

It is interesting to be able to get analytics on my writing. how many and when and from where eyes peer into this renovated photo booth where I continuously try out different arrangements.