This Is The Time

This is the time of early evening when apparitions rise from the water. The air grows fat with interlude and we begin washing our clothes. The cuticle is our line of dispatch. We are amalgams of ham. Let's display our dancing after the boats leave. I want every muscle in my body to employ my whereabouts. I feel like a stepladder. Or a porch. I'm full of light and panic. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. But my legs will widen for you and my arms will swarm with glowworms. Revolt is respectable. I can draw on my flexibility to draw a different conclusion, but when it comes time to walk the heath, I must withdraw from ridicule and ripen with understanding. It’s a tonic that the brush that I have had so long is still there to greet me in the morning and tame the chaos surrounding my head. I burn with vigilance to distill a mirror into a cube of life. Autumn is a sleeve to anticipate. Winter’s a spell to be discussed in silence with tea and cookies. There’s a pharmacy of snow unfolding in my sleep. I have all the tools I need to fix the stool, but I can do nothing for your cabana without a sawhorse, and a proper incentive. There are things about my past that drop into the water like propellers and drive things forward. I came to my speaking in a stupor of good Chablis outside the limbo of daily pretentions. I stopped being fake and started being hieroglyphic. I walked funny. I talked funny. And now, here I am, a babbling subjectivity wrapped in the words of ascension. I rescue the weight of my attention above the phenomenon of plums. This is the summer that simmers in symbols, not because I'm old, but because the turn of events is open to willow. Selling things is a hectic square of whatness. Always. Such as the use of time squandered on a clarity of purpose. What we think of as purpose is actually an alibi for chutzpah. We are the mongrels of ourselves. This is what the rattles tell me in the depths of night, when the components of the universe cling to the architecture of flags, and the trees and bushes thrash about in strips of glittering metal.