Stoned Peony

We'd all be fine if it wasn't for matter,

because, then, we couldn't solidify...

never mind we solidify thoughts, 

see them as real,

it really doesn't matter!

You can't write a poem about something....

it either is that thing, in words,

or, it is not...that's art!

I'll writhe another poem out for you folks

soon, I promise!

Now, whom/whatever thought up flowers,

now, there was intelligent design...

and, they work!

Intelligence, itself, thought it all up...

there never was a being!

Corner of sunlight through skylight

on my desk...cool in red underwear nobody

can see me listening to old KGNU radio show

I did with J.J. still good to hear still healing

from being born just in time for death looks like.

Could be a long one...spaced out frag-ments...

even a part contains the whole...

...come in, Rangoon...

"there's some Disco fans in here tonight..."

Disco-nected from the 

Motherboard Motherlode Mothership

cross your fingers hold your nose and jump

like being born.