freewrite on the typewriter

pieces of the afternoon
steeping pungent in the sweet and beany air
puns gaining pluck and possible controversy
high shelved "i" sounds curl up to the ceiling
there can be no reverse of the things which transpire in this kitchen
June #23 is every bit as full as it could be
the punctuation is wavering in the sweet and slippery distance
the roundabout calls to every neighborhoodlum
"Come wait in the sunlight"
circular burns come from dancing in the street-side heat

skin peels softer and softer
bruisy knees beneath the backyard trees
shouldered sunshine is sweetened by blue fabric and gin

a heart is only contained by its chambers
four platforms of potential value
a jury of muscled pumppumppuumppump

wet green bottoms of feet
find earth through grass grown long through Spring
lush yellow roses outweigh their ambitions,
droop even under the touch of mother sun

tastes like togetherness
bowls cupped in six hands,
thirty fingers working toward the same destination
and it is delicious.