I wish it could be so both
like 2 tights and 2 looses
could get between around I mean
I live here, crawling over the lucite sphere
of the mix all clammy by get I mean into
taste the latent painting,
the subterranean set of facts or
do I draw? dancers pulling silk scarves from
the center of an old tire this tilted memory
palace postcard holographic and
psychic you passing cloud black
and yellow buff like a chance
Rothko, jealous
of such crystalized obsession
me doing everything erasing
itself while power just is
everything around the corner
it’s the morning everything
comes to me, the morning
I see everything getting warmer
everything on fire I always try to
do everything [it] gets watery
while spirit just is where it is
and was, a Whole Lotta Love
conjures time in full, drops of
fog drown my song
the mist rushes up from the canyon
the valley is really a V
forgot about god and wet water
'til it came backwards to me
the dream was all night
missing some Bolinas type
cliff, archer watching me
in the rain she said mural as
I walked on the broken roof
tuned to the entire radio
