he
left
his judgement & neuroses
his paranoia & cirrhosis
in a gladstone bag
with
his phone & credit rating
in
the only working
train station locker
east
of
constantinople
and hes laughing now
laughing like
his hearts beating
and hes announcing love now
in awful latin
all alone
to the ragged mountains
broken glass peaks
he was worn dull
with rushed tai chi
and hr penetration
but now hes reaching for now
far from the
information
capitals
hes immersed in the composition
hes immersed in the oils
hes part of the technique
hes brush strokes & whirls
hes blown on the plastic winds
hes as naked & nothing as nature now
and now hes letting now go again
flitting fickle & deathless
like
a
stoned butterfly
pic from serendipity-crafts.com
