the scenery recedes

inside this rainbow

being born out of our unfolding intimate world

and digging into my hollow pockets for some stone mind

to realize another Woodstock dream,

it had better crystallize this time,

as these friends are running around

planting more flowers than ideas,

and what we all need here is a little less phantasmagoria,

and a lot more

Black

or White

(slowly, while the trappings settled over the covered mirrors,

my sister singed what was left of her false eyelashes,

and immediately

i knew i had to drop out

or return to the circus)

11/7/70