read the signs of the hand
from the signless land
walk the razor’s edge
and rest my head upon
the ultimate papaya
rest my head in layers
of smoke unseen
and smoke risin’ means
the thread is read
lost abandoned
let’s swing this baby
to the days of the graze
an’ raisin’ shakti
to hide collide
in her milky rivers
is ecstasy
magnificent really
if dug out properly
- from Mixed Storm
