Los alamos te amo / by Reckon

as reported to me by a cottonwood tree... the midnight gardener's mind is not a brain receiving signals but signals making a brain in the cellar in the kitchen in the hallways in the light let in home and um and molt burdened words, guilt, mediocrity; aum in formally sin waves and aum elder stars around snaking skeleton keys; to me freemen talk about the new music and strange poetry exposing wings while flying vee carpet teams soothe a bayou and classic scene muscle-minded, overtaxed and barely getting by in the back; america, you are my favorite looking glass TV newborn and so advised be: the radio and laptop do work (I'm serious) so does the dictionary in the 21st century when the walk of life forms a secret country needing distribution when the bibulous whistlers claim budget woes while selling out from under your feet the very stones, the very gold n' water - the very meat and salad ottawa on to rio, tikrit and neo and who will know after all who got what when nothing is true and everything free? 

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit