scenery recedes

inside this rainbow

born of our unfolding intimate world

digging into my hollow pockets for some stone mind

to realize another Woodstock dream,

hoping it’d better crystallize this time,

friends continue running around

planting more dope than ideas,

me thinking what we all could use here is a little less phantasmagoria

and a lot more

Black

or White

(bit by bit, while incense clouded the mirrors and windows,

my lover had singed what was left of her false eyelashes,

and immediately

i knew i had to drop out

or get trapped in the circus)

11/7/70