uncle mountain

Here, I feel like a fire theft song
drenched and limber
unaroused by the strongest smells and sights
just peddling onwards
and into the sky and into the sea
and into the mist and muck
(little or much)
true depth awaits and turning you over
lifted out from wreckage days
and lives that donít mean anything
or go anywhere, just sit and sift
through days like diseases and
card games where anything
and everything we want or need
is waiting on our legs to move.

2004-10-22 | 11:04 a.m.
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