Fog II

Mead
62 So. Allen #3
Albany, NY 12208
HYPERLINK mailto:Mead815@yahoo.com mead815@yahoo.com
123soho.com/member/mead

Fog II

Rolls on, an all over lint: rising.
Compared to exactness,
That terrible pall, this dullness
Blesses, makes gazes really look.
What every eye says is:
So we're a bit of a mess,
Think of the potential!

How I love these funnels fanning,
This town of gowns flung about
Branches, with a half ocean coming
Spiritous.

Once at a dance club I passed out &;
Coming 'round was something similar:
Vast space, whiteness, grey wisps swirling
For green blinkings, magenta jet trails,
Neon yellow?

At the bottom was height, depths of it,
The pulsating planet reborn or
Perhaps coming to an end,
Yet only the way orchids close.

Some thought it a bad trip, though time,
Time I experienced &; one voice whispered:

Not to show, so hard, you've been trying
Though here it is, the world

Maybe yes no not sure but

The whispering face went back into the mist