Once more, Love is pouring down my ceiling and walls.
Once more, the full moon is making me crazy for you.
Once more, the Rain has washed away my senses.
Once more, too many thoughts are filling my mind’s eye.
(The seer’s tale)
Come dancing with me in a little scene, Norma Jean, said “Make-it-man” with one head put away. And we will see together the shanghaied vision – by beauty gone and seers sleeping. Mind, sing over: clanging and chanting late-in-life, spot assembling a big tent, selling a new world, giving time, giving tales, giving sounds, filling wails with analog that’s ringing.
Here’s your vibe upon a stage regarding its wage. Fragilities rumored. How can you screen that, asks the one, with a mug. Can’t you see how every play, come what day, it’s swelling – you jerk you. And many times to be the un-being won’t illuminate or elucidate the time that is freeing.
Spinning to attachments, old Hercules, won’t generate the faltering of a bum with flimsy feet. This I give you. So choose it. Don’t loose it. Tag along with me and envision the seer. Be the change.
© 2007 David Cain