Seismic waves of no size at all, really just imagination’s waves that we created in dark’s spaces. Not nubile night, not breaths nor weight, not expected, so nothing but everything from nothing creates.
Backwoods of my mind comes barefoot forward to tell me no trouble’s brewin’. Walking thru those twinkld streets battered by desert dust, a fairy-land, perfect haze dusts over non-existent tropic heat, waves of dreams, green galaxies far away, walking, walking, walking content with nothing in my hands. To dive. I dove from where I was standing in dust-land, thinking I was diving into nothing, not thinking at all, greeted by pit of comfort, hands relax, mind doesn’t. Dummy night soothes factual day and how I love dummy night. Drive into night’s stomach where my eyes, my breath, my tongue, my hair rests easy. Became Rain Man a second time for another reason in another world. Simple and concise. Concise but not so simple.
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