When you live on the streets
all you see is cars
everybody who drives by you hate
but when they get out
you like them all over again
the surroundings stay the same,
but the sky changes with
each lingering….

perched underneath a sill
september spanish guitar sunlight
a picked momento moire

next sequence, seeing emotions
pour out to strangers
or them to me
while executing a sketch
in a brick arcade underneath
the passers-by

green–>pink clouds in the shape of
everchanging faces, lying on the grass
miraculous solar events

the search for the onyx stone

beeboping in the drug store
not mattering, enraptured
in spontaneity and association

watching the construction effort
on the street, (actually reprogramming–
but who knows) while laying on side
on sidewalk

to the next city for the first time ever
and extreme deja vu
upon arrival
the result of a mass conciousness
effort, on the part of the consumer

all are entries of the sojourner
who upon further reflection
encountered death’s eminent
possibility
and made it back
to tell this
story