〰️ Exian

And what if I attained my rosy-fringed dream of pure utterance, and the words made little collapses into a garden of dawn

Uncenchopped

There's an ancient feeling that paints some of my thoughts

YouTube video by Colin Newman - Topic I've Waited Ages (Remastered 2016)

youtu.be/y8SiM-qT3kk?...

When aliens it came
and all squalled sea-shells of the pony;
I couldn't believe my clapped luck that rendered back a nugget of trust

The philosopher worm,
The clear apple lake...

I'm getting fleezy with this garrotting of the senses; though the soul speaks softly round an airy moon

Searching the star of the river's voice;
the chill of Egypt

Funny that this reminded me I tried to give my friend a blues name which was "Cookin' Beans" Tyler McGee but sadly it never caught on

In a neighbouring facet of this diamond world, a palm tree swaying endlessly blue.

I think the hands were made for this

Well sweetness be unstrung!
I'm battling the tower's sortilege in this storm-blessed hour

Breathing the lost stars of plenitude, I enact the lone rabbit in the hunter's woods

What could whisper better than a toying rose in a shaded corner?

I'm sorry I broke the skein of silk subtlety; here's a bridge flower from the cradled city

Night's gem has dropped to the seabed, and has attained a sublime and indelible boredom; though there's an uneasiness that pervades in me

Time is cracked of its purpose and the milk of the maple tree looks on in velvet winter

Light loads the unicorn in new wavering dimensions; I kiss the flower not yet there

It's a life of ashen gold, where skittish birds hide in trees —
Oh, beautiful discordant Being, and cherry ice-cream

I have an holy desire, fletched to outspeed the vespering air

With Heaven's festooned train passing me by, I think of cemeteries and other ballooned up things

This spidery rain is the thought of some other land; my shadow caught in a drowsy lense of muted fire

My favourite of theirs

Not a fat-bellied sun oafishly hammering on these white cotton sheets...
Ma'am, I'm a whirly child from this day on

Summer machine duck feather day;
the fluttering star of the old record shop — to tie in these old honeyed ghosts with some star-junctioned passion

Under a something moon, she was the queen of Brittany in pine needle scent,
and she spoke like a flashlight on the mind's treasure

Jestermaxxing at the rainbow's court; now that's an idea for the moonlight

Dreamed up a marble vortex of friendly fire and twisted wheat; though where's the clarion in the twilight field?

What's with the impeccable Venus I've been trying to sculpt

Deep alchemy of the violet star: I noticed the wind and the wind noticed me

I found this crystal leaf dragon in the garden of change