Flowing #23

[WIREMAN]

hitch yer wagon
.........................to a star
wade in the water
float in the flow
kicked by cliches,

hitch yer wagon
.........................to a star
no fancy cars
nor cabin cruisers
should light yer
way,

hitch yer wagon
.........................to a star
no need to be wishing
nor dreaming, when
flowing, yer hitched
and you are the star.

[mnaz]

Note the possible, cosmo-log-i-cal,
para-dis-i-cal, para-dox-i-cal,
flea-flicker flotsam fly foll-i-cal,
prank the prod prod pro pract-i-cal,
criss-cross crime chro-no-log-i-cal,
red-eye rod-bustin' raw rad-i-cal,
zone of zen-zing zoo-o-log-i-cal,
home-ward high ho heart-i-cal,
like wire woven, wrought...

Can do it all from my porch.
Don't need any more gasoline,
once I'm hitched....

[WIREMAN]

....sittin in the room
guitar player gettin in tune
accents on the world....

.....the ride a tilt-a-whirl~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[mnaz]

flowing up the coast,
melting away into liquid gray,
johnny in the echo chamber,
caught in a rain-soaked reverb,
old Augustus Pablo vibration,
bounced between the drops,
volume edged ever higher,
home-ward...

[WIREMAN]

leaving mahavishnuville
heading toward the
bluer swirl, that place
where the powder floats
upon the ganges, settling
by the shores of the
chesapeake bay............

[mnaz]

Broken-line fever's been my flow,
haven't known much else,
towns like street lights, exit signs,
momentum overflowed, overspilled,
cracked motels with singing pipes,
Gideon's save me from the madness,
Genesis to follow Exodus...
flow back across prehistoric space...

[WIREMAN]

always someone waitin,
there with the answer

young poets - old poets
drunken poets - sober poets
beat poets- L7 poets

make mine rarer than rare
flowing on a bed of "just another hit"

wanna feel that sweet california sunshine
wanna feel it soon...gots ta do it.......

[mnaz]

drink it in.
the road's inevitable verse,
the slender bended palms,
the light, a relaxed moment
in shirt-sleeve blue & gold...
the days are getting longer now.

[WIREMAN]

waves breaking on 250 foot high cliffs
immense vistas @ big sur
san francisco.... lala land...... my old home palo alto
30 years away make it 31
california i'm comin home.......

[Whitebird Sings]

...seems to me you never left.
that's what makes it home
still.
those ties that were never severed,
that's what'll carry you home.

maybe it's there we'll meet.

i close my eyes
so that i can see
more clearly
a place i know
that is forever on my heart...

let me try
let me try
let me try to carry you there
on the wings of my words...

paso robles.
not far from fern canyon
hot days and hot springs,
cold desert nights.
riding the stallions into the hills,
sliding off their backs
and we walk
side by side
under the arches
formed by thick tangled vines
to the top of the hill.
we cup our hands
and dip them
into the icy cold water
of the well
of the ancient white stucco monastery.
we splash water on our faces,
our necks,
on each other
and we drink deep.
we descend again
mount
and we ride
ride
ride
ride
ride
up the coast
toward monterey,
where we'll stand on the shores
listening to the waves
crashing against the rocks
that have stood for milleniums.
eyes closed, salt on our lips.
the mystical magical thick fog
rolls in
and envelopes us...

the sound of a police helicopter above my house
draws me back to the violent reality of now.
my phone is ringing.
i'm needed...

...i'll return to the dream when i can.

[WIREMAN]

more!....more!

enraptured by the dream
damn helicopters and phone calls
headin out for sushi
with some friends
i'll make the dream my dessert later WB..........

[Whitebird Sings]

he sees me
rises
walks toward me...
that's always how it is in the dream