prose burden launching 010724 ... paste! lurking in a jet engine, small wide-eyed chanters eat the abdomen disguised as granulated lima bean. 010724 ... pete i remember when we studied the book of job people attacked my interpretations because i put too much emphasis on the prose parts of the book, they said that the prose means less because it is prose... but being a poet prose means more, because it is harder to write, because it is more honest, because it is auspicious to a level that poetry can never be... 040723 ... (_) "prose poems," he said of my pitiful little words arranged in barely-coherent sentences. strange. why does it have to be linked to poetry? they are completely seperate after all, not that either is particularly good wonderful earth-shattering in the end. or is poetry just everything beautifully expressed? a laugh, the tears weathering my cheeks, ways i hurt you from inside my little bubble world that is broken and has light seeping in. if only all i had to was write this! these down, that would be so easy. but that can't be the end. not if there are characters and thought that are to swirl around each other like shy beautiful dancers. paragraphs to craft like long, tangled strands of knitting by one so clumsy as me and soon i run out of thread or thoughst and have nothing to say, because somehow words are better put in fewer quantities with calculated pauses, stanza breaks. and that loses sight of the prosaic, mundane and lovely things. so why do i sit here making my handprint on the keyboard instead of leaving it untouched and maybe pristine in someone's mind? . . . we shall see, if i do indeed have a story after all. 060601 what's it to you? who go blather from