R/ckets and S/ntries

it has been a tender energy, to comply. we wait seriously, the stern meetingplace already steady in our minds. we learn to rhyme, thinking this is as close to song as we'll need to get. we sink into our chair, the sinking goes on for hours, and develope a lugubrious sense of humour. hi I am PATRICK, for the day. or uneven terms on the road. we follow. a scuff of noonday clouds has built a determinedly formless effect into memory. this day, that is, will be remembered, tho for no clear reason. some device, part of our election, controls the manifestation. large words. I'm JIM aka STEPHANIE. all is well, and the bucket that dips. there's more, and just as sane. this travelogue here, it remains fortunate for those who read it. it thunders thru Africa and Asia, and rediscovers the Americas. some sort of reduction of the broth becomes more than we imagined. a city state, and we burp. a nation, and we look for relief. the doxology of change, or something rich like that, to be sung in plenty. today is wednesday, for sure. the renegades are back to wearing shoes. all will be well, and the bucket to dip deep. the water only seems black.