magic paint by numbers

is only what is but in fact isn’t really what it isn’t doesn’t want what it wants but thinks without too much effort to open up like flowers do at this time of year in this part of the world.  Rather than that why not break into pieces to put back together again for an august bank holiday lark (or song bird).  At that we wimper and fall down all the way to the bottom of the top and climb back up again.  Speaking in tongues was always a specialty of mine but it doesn’t seem very useful when locusts and cicadas hum hymn sing dance parties to sting so bitterly as if to say I wonder if that makes any sense to you at all?


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