24 September 2021 Friday
In the sun. Christmas but it’s late. Trumpets and the smell of mushrooms. Go into the direct physical sensation. The way it’s done. Getting out of shape. Bent all out.
So many times. The lights left on overnight. The gates are open. Approaching the eschatological Indian with a front seat view. While I have my coffee.
Humour to the rescue. The day after it was released. Assessment. Reading the crumbs on the table like tea leaves. Coffee grounds. Leavings. Crumb bum.
Setting unfamiliar. To imagine what you don’t know. Why not. Focusing on something. Maybe it is anything again. Where the accent is. The emphasis. Validated by your staring.
Read that back to me in paint. Currency of the electric sun dancing. Up and at ’em. Be bop. The answer to the question not asked.