The morning
wedged into a corner of the window
still dark but light enough to
shut impatient dreams
delicately entwined
The few lines I scribbled in the night
seem this morning to be written in sanskrit?
A leadpipe reckoning
A little coffee & kerosene at low tide
Interior landscapes where I don’t find you
& less than a mile from here
it all turns to glass
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Pacific Overture
The dragon in the waves is our
connection to the East
The East is west of here
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The Dalai Lama’s stoked
he’s got a California reggae garage version of
Mystery Train
going full blast in his head 24-7
I wonder how many sunsets it takes to
get that transparent