An Ode to a Cigar

By the glow of a blue moon suck at this Macanudo as I shoot the winter wind with a genial, inspiring buddy whose bizzare depths I far from know Get too dizzy as I very rarely smoke,

Who Tends The Fire

Look to the sky Eagles fly (and die) Brown mountains shelter the young with painted stories Within the strong caves of civilization While we live and get higher As we stroll by the sky

Third From The Sun

Strange voices Painted faces Wandering, Finding Unseen places All people Different kind Doors ajar Opened minds Magic Black Music red Something I lack Inside my head Who are we?

Country Lane

Within my brain I see a plain It seems insane But there is no rain Patterns, textures and details i gain As I walk along my country lane

Mexico

Now is the time But what time is left? He watched the screen Finding nothing but himself These were pictures And pictures only He left for Mexico to me a friend

Sand

Life is but a vision People do not die They disintegrate Into another vision Like sand

Re-open

To re-open involves personality change Hidden behind closed doors Deep within the mind Evolves Into a separate reality An extension of thought
Cherry

Moby Dick, in limerick 2

A crude and succinct summary

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