Come and spy the poet… he’s always hungry.. he will pull you in his wagon… rolling to your vital self… the poet responds to life and is licking his chops… he’s breathing upon you…. stealth….
You will rarely know what he’s thinking… maybe he’s been drinking… see nothing will seem to you as sure… yet a message is in the making…
All to him… comes as Holy…clear… configuring it all to relay… Angels playing with Stars and harps… while wild Earth men fumble with Clay…
Someone said…” that crazy poet”…
The poet says…” the awareness level can be painful”… watch what you say…
