Lines: The Drippings from a Golden Umbrella, Collected in Pans and Boiled for Stew

Should be pretty obvious what produced this.

My body was hovering, time dilating, at the apex of a roller coaster somewhere

Buried in my flesh. That feeling drew out that second before the first hill

And my third eye watched as it drew out to infinite thinness and began to

Tilt, it’s corners tilting against the motion, swirling into Julia’s writhing arms.

Twisting in upon itself, the moment became a dragon, tail in mouth

And my body became a conduit

One that carries the love of God, the Wa of the Tao into his heart from the infinite

And discharges its pure energy into

The surrounding circuits

I move not such crude electricity, where lurks the work of devils, some say

But pure oneness, coded in the language of understanding

I must speak for the slim cold grey figure ‘neath the golden umbrella

As clouds climb out of my mouth

And tornadoes flare from my nasal cavity

In a minute my mind assumes to see the glowing orb

Yet the hands of time shuffle about like a street corner magician’s, a scam up his sleeve

I crumble into nudity

Feeling various cloths attempt to battle their way back upon my body

I feel the doom, five thousand parsecs from my mind but still right there.

I give peace and good tidings to all and am returned in kind(ness)

I revel in their smiling faces, eyes widened by divine realization

And the love that pours from my heart/mind/soul/capacitors

Sifting between ill-ordered moments of coherence and it’s lack

I somehow manage to use my mind

To indulge myself, perhaps a tad arrogantly, allowing myself to play the sage.

I see harmonious eyes strike chords with every babbling that exits my face

And only the ring of understanding remains

Were there not the years, if only time would dilate through years, one would we be

And I would not have to bear any shame or malice nor the contempt of those

Whom I respect.

So I reach into my purer mind

And wither into a comfortable neutrality

It is the next time after the daily descent, the darkness not yet complete at this hour

My eyes move in different directions at different times

King Buzzo is whispering in my ear with his lonely bass guitar

I am fed by wind and smoke

Tubes of pleasure might tempt my orifices

But my strength remains

All is well, I am free to go about my life in this manner

Welcoming confusion and chaos with the widest open arms and finding order and peace In their reassuring embrace.

Because the year is new. Because I’ve got all the time in the world.

In my mind I am climbing a tree and it is tomorrow and it is warm and there is a breeze

And nary a building between here and the horizon.

And I know tomorrow will not be like that at all. That scene may never come to pass.

Yet it is in my heart. And I am content with it’s presence therein, even if it never escapes.

...an ocean of time later

I have no memory.