The static, Ghost breathing of the night is like a

  Middle-Earth-Projected-Psychic Grid.

  The low vibration of a distant train tides in

  with the cool night air. The 'greenness' of the

  spring air and its starry edge form a clear

  electric membrane, spilling into my eyes as I

  lean back against my bedroom wall. Some

  god is thinking of compressing Roman marble

  and it's becoming ionic, here tonight.

  A majestic, golden Chinese morning and

  there is this beautiful metallic disc spitting

  laser light into the waking city streets.

  The Emperor will not be 'in' this morning. He has

  some risky business with an enemy. Go back to Eighties'

  plastic, China!  I am thinking mostly of alarm

  clock casings. Get a good breakfast, baby...

 
  A BIRD'S SOUND PUT ME OVER A LAKE

  AS A CHILD I BELIEVED IN PAN

  LARGE PARTIES OF SKIN

 
  As a child I believed Pan

  visited the wooded area behind my house. I imagined

  him eating clusters of rich, dark berries and moving

  silently, gracefully on goat legs. His presence was

  the sex of the moist earth making us grow in the summer.

 
  EYES IN A CAVE OF HANDS

  CLEAN AT THE TOP OF THE PINE

  WHAT IS IN THE BLACK, BEYOND THE WHITE

  ENERGY SPILL INTO MY SUBCONSCIOUS?