#6 Lyric

My words do me no justice,

a philosopher

with no knowledge

in his bed.



Inspired again?

Nothing new, my arc,

it’s missing.



Time to sleep.

My dreams percolate

lost entity of belief,

and the wind blows:

gravity’s arm lifting

me from the ground

placing me gently, back

on acid trails

amidst candy dried sound.


Patiently I wait

counting days like seconds.


- Oct 4, 2003