Sunday, July 4, 2010

Laurel Canyon

Smile tapping out rhythms on his typewriter guitar
Through blues laden curtains and gazing very far
The raven winks away upon the shoulder of a dream
And cooks up cardboard puzzles of salamander cream

A well constructed parody
Is ugly at its base
Like scores of swimming atoms
In the construction of a face

I’m deep inside my study
I’m deep inside my heart
Hundreds stand at attention
What stems from the flowering dark

I’m lost inside the mansion
I’m lost inside my part
Of the kumbays rodeo
And a fragment of the art

Atlas walks from solitude
Into the ghastly parade
And a thousand burning horses
Resting in the shade

Mount Shasta wears a mask
Of silver button snow
And a pool of screaming wildcats
Has nowhere else to go

In conclusion I saw writers
I saw victims I saw cheats
I saw spider footed wanderers
Spiraling headlong to the deep

All I could truly contemplate
And hear at the end of days
Is I’m better of enraptured
Because at least I have something to say

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