Anne Marie Scotto

Quickly, quickly tumble


To quickly, quickly tumble

I'd love to flow like a river unblocked once in a while

to just have a desire and bubble and bump downhill to the sea with EASE!

without a struggle!!

honeycomb-bubble-based waterfall then rush on down to my goal 

Mr Gravity would help out for once!

Yeah, somehow it came to me the other day

this idea, out-of-the-dew of a dream

may-it-be that if there are too many blocks, it's not the right way to go?

climb up that cliff?!

get stuck in tight dark spaces?!

dawdle in a desert waiting room for days and days?!

could be, it's a huge collection of clues.

big blocks and misfortunes and Miss Steps and Miss Stakes

Yes, we all make mistakes and y e t...

perhaps it's like a series of paper slips we're given and we're supposed to notice?!

when silently shown that it doesn't flow like a river downhill, something else is better

something else is quicker

(oh dear!)

Something Else is meant to be

why waste time when it's the wrong direction?!

why waste time and shake the door handle when there's another that opens quickly?

In a cruel lesson, the Universe says: "Arrive quickly or not at all!"




Open


So, you're asking me to be

um, uh 

well, just be me!

are you?

are you asking me to say something?

anything?

o p e n up

talk!

be unsilent!

hmmm...

I don't know if this is the right setting for a coconut split

a melon cracked

a nectarine ripped

an open oyster 

a world in a chestnut pried wide!!

is it?

is it really?

really the right place for flailed skin?

oh, but maybe no time is ideal?

YOU could say that and,

I'd believe you

I'd believe you because I always do.

even when you think I don't ,

I believe you. 

whenever you say it like that




Filling Days


Is it all about the running on? Days and nights and time running on without a gap or  a comma, coma, death, with not even a wreck somewhere? We go on living (if we're lucky) no matter what happens.  It could be the heartbreak scene of the century or the clumsy slip on a popped bubble, and it almost doesn't matter if we keep breathing. Living, moving, walking on, as we must. No surgery.  No soft gifts. Perhaps thinking too much, or perhaps thinking nothing at all, emptiness...  It almost doesn't matter! (Oh Sincere Joy, this morning I woke up!)  Only fools worry so much, right? Why not just pursue what interests our hearts on a day to day schedule? Why not just stop judging or holding on to anything but what we need? I could be happy not thinking about anything while moving my fingers and making sounds.  I could be happy stuffing more information into my curious self.  Easily,I could be happy being a cave of wonders. It all depends on the time of night or day and how much I can turn off all the dialogue.  Quiet be the language, silence be the comfort,  just to hear whatever is outside of the personal echo that's left when I  am not floating in any particular direction. 



Anne Marie Scotto is a writer living in Florida.


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