Last night at the Yale: New Riders.

I encountered a story
and too many stories this night
so characterful and alien, so human
and so fucking
dirt
human.
feeling the noise and
really feeling
this noise.
Spirits from the streets;
Spiritual beams from the street,
from the Grateful Dead,
and psych, sweet psych:
it was all so heavy.

All happening and happening NOW,
these old men,
looking at me knowing that
I'm seeing total cosmic colour.
I know that I remind them
of themselves.
I know I know I know
I don't really know--
trivial blissful
and blissfuck my soul.

I encounter these plots, people
in the most outrageous expressions, people
as their most beautiful selves.
So many pasts shining
and I'm the young one
feeling already
quite old
but in absolute observation
of Them Who Have Lived
and of them who are clearly surviving.

The place swings and I
swing with it
right on the dancefloor,
only a breath away from the stage.
On this Blues planet
we are the atmosphere.
Here
these people
and everywhere
this world
telling a story,
telling a story.

There, my soul meets yours
and there, we are now friends.
Mother, your belly is warm
your belly
is round and most beautiful.
Mother,
are you prepared to age yourself so young?
MOTHER, this planet,
I have exactly your personality
exactly your endeavor.

Tonight the adventure had us;
psychedelic poison with our sup,
and Jordan at swing with me.
The waves and craves of the multi-dimension
greeting and feeding us,
and these people!
Exactly Them Who Fit Into It.

Solid sounds, man.
Universal solid sounds for the timeless anytime
and everywhere:
stories
stories
stories