perhaps from some whistle dream awakening:
somewhere Zacateca laundry screen door slams,
a cosmic pause for inspired pleading,
while sweetening unfulfilled desert gardens
okay, now everything's all right...
thereafter, mind's eye follows serious panting:
past these turquoise clouds,
yes breath, everything's all right...
out here past this satisfying staircase:
this esteemed stony bathtub...
this respiratory regenerator...
this tried and tested initiation
to enter this B-Mountain psychedelicized heaven