Friday, August 14, 2009

A stoned twirl-back of the head
and I'm with the smell of grass.

Musty and inviting.

Happened with Glass' 'Evening Song'.

My brain is partially working on the lyrics of this post,
and some of it is living many lives in an instant.
(Like it's been born to a thousand gushing springs.)

The rest lays calm,
almost like silence in the storm;
listening to the movement, and
watching the sun set.


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