If the doors of perception were cleansed
every thing would appear to man as it is,
infinite.
For man has closed himself up,
till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern.
From William Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
. . . like poetry, all fluid
a few rigid rules
may be taken for
granted
a little surreal
a little sublime
a little like a dream
nobody should define
a handful of friends
a pocketful of foes
a tune to dance to
10 fingers and 10 toes
days like deep sleep
nights full of awakening
a few sunrays, a mirage
a full moon night, unexpectation
subconsciously
waking up the
conscious
all in an hour’s wandering!
-jm