Of
The frequencies ...
Now I wear
A mustard 70's
Velour
And am observed
By those I've noticed,
Looked at by eyes
I can't see through,
Unlike the moment
Before ...
But a moment further
I have Billie
Holiday from the Black Trumpet PA
And I have her
3 AM voice,
Always someone else ...
And now the Hell's Angels
Have taken over
The pool ...
And Aung San
Has gone
To jail!
Each thought is a leaf
I pick and exist
Inside of
If I have
A place
At all --
The all must always
Be nothing,
Must even close its apertures
To send tiny packets
Of universe
Kaleidoscopic with light,
A light that imprints its thoughts
On the sky
As time lapses,
The shutter closes,
And the bulb of lived experience
Flashes in a wink
That captures
The afterburn
Of what is natural:
Everything indistinguishable,
Compressed into some middle
Of a love sangwee,
Not the blessed separation,
That thing we asked for,
Freedom.
