The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

a filigree diamond filched from a ring

around age 16 music assumed a new significance for me

some new urgency possessed me and i could procrastinate no longer

something told me to play the bass guitar

what was that something i wonder

that something that sometimes guided me like a oracle….?

my father agreed he would buy me a bass for my birthday and he did

in sept 1970 i started my long journey with the bass guitar

you all know by now it was a violin bass a cheap copy of pauls

my father rigged me up an amplifier made from an old school p.a.

it was tinny and crackly but it worked

the bass on its own without an amp was a kinda uninspiring sound

a bit of a metallic rattle without much note in it to be heard

i had absolutely no idea how to play it whatsoever

i strapped it on and pretended to play to records

i gazed upon it in awe and wonder

i held it and ran my fingers over it

i was not a natural musician but i plugged away

i had a book about tuning it and what all the notes were

i began to pick out simple riffs and then slightly harder riffs

friends who played guitar came over and we began to understand

around the same time i bought a $10 acoustic guitar and learnt some chords

i knew i wanted to write songs but i didnt have much of a clue

my earliest attempts are maudlin whiney tripe

muse : that stuff goes down well today with boy bands…..

embarrassing 4th form poetry (i was in 4th form after all)

kids came over with drumkits to my dads garage

my dad was incredibly kind generous and tolerant

he lent me the dough to buy a maton amplifier

and i plugged in and so did 2 or 3 other kids on guitar

we played rock around the clock over and over

there was a constant rotation of kids all with bits n pieces of knowledge

one day my fingers started doing little runs between notes by themselves

i’m sure the passing notes were all wrong but it was the principle of it

i was starting to improvise…..

then theres the legendary ben a ginger headed guy a few years older than me

he popped over one day and in one hour taught me enough to be going on with

scales and slurs and slaps etc

that was my first and only lesson and i figured it all out from thereon in

the secrets of music revealed themselves bit by bit

i was not a musical prodigy by any means

i guess i plugged away and that was it

i encountered new things and took them onboard

i drifted thru a few half rate bands

i was writing and singing and playing bass

a thousand rehearsals a thousand jams

a thousand times loading all my stuff in my van on a cold night

a thousand cigarettes a thousand arguments

i kept losing my voice

i was a shouter more than a singer

everything that came along influenced me

i absorbed music like a sponge and squeezed out my own version

i wrote a thousand mediocre forgettable songs that were all forced

i was glam rock i was prog rock  i was gutter rock i was space rock

i lugged in and i lugged out

no one clapped that much it was bloody woeful i guess

yeah hard to believe isnt it….ha ha ha…

eventually i wound up in a room with a tape recorder

i percolated therein until i had finally written some decent things

i spent 3 years experimenting with songs

figuring out how to overdub my voice

all that kind of thing

just kept on writing and writing

immersed in music and reading the music papers

trying to figure out the zeitgeist….its impossible

i had long songs and short ones

weird ones and conventional ones

instrumentals poems raps sci-fi blips and blasts

sped up n slowed down i tried everything

somewhere in there i found myself

one day putting down a guitar track i thought hang on

this is starting to sound like me

just think of that

my very own me…!

fallen into shadow

i was born a genius and a pain in the arse

on some strange no mans land

the symptoms of mild madness could also be a gift

as soon as i could remember i felt music deeply

i felt the words to the songs i heard very deeply

more deeply now i realise than perhaps most children do

except for other people whose vocation it was to write songs

certain songs made strange resonances in me

to me a boy of four i had no idea how to write a song

but my fascination was predestined

the songs that were around in those days were not rocknroll

luckily some of them had other commending attributes

beautiful melodies and some very clever lyrical devices

i was taking notes i guess in my small boyish fashion

i would have been no good for any other job

my only ability is to dream up improbable things maybe strum a guitar

then the beatles liberated my world from the dullness of the fifties in 1963

the beatles are the best

the beatles are the beginning the genesis of everything that followed

i know i was there

i saw it happen

i felt the volcanic shifts in the western world as the beatles evolved

only dylan can truly be said to be outside their influence

a lot of hoo hah was made of the beatles songs

they assumed an importance previously unheard of

suddenly the popular song had gotten out of control

it had mutated into actual bona fide high art eg:  strawberry fields forever

as far as i could see

no one had pulled this off before

no one can convince me they are not the original and the best

paradoxically its still possible to like other things more than the beatles

but their  individuality  their panache and their innovation cannot be underestimated

so at a fortunate time in my life from age of 9 to 16

i had the beatles before my eyes changing evolving and finally shattering

some of their finest work is UNBELIEVABLY brilliant

so i was schooled by the finest via the radio

each new beatles song was an event

where would they go this time…..? the world asked itself

and we saw them go from simple to ornate and back to simple

the importance of the beatles therefore cannot be overestimated

other things sprang up that i liked

dylan was always on my mind

where the fuck was he getting all that stuff from…?

i began to notice his methodology and his devices

i began to notice the way he and the beatles were influencing each other

when bob and george wrote “i’d have you anytime”

i thought that was the most sublime dreamy gorgeous song EVER!

yeah bob dylan so different to the beatles

more raw more visceral

hes like a powerful play

theyre like a powerful film

he is less frills but his songs are more wordy

he is less inclined to step out of character

the beatles often sing as different characters in their songs

all these things i felt and thought about

i was a kid while these giants of music had their purple patches

they influenced my music at a cellular level

i could no more escape them than a flying bird escape the air

but i had to also adopt their obviously high standards

i had to demand from myself what i had come to expect of them

i had to demand that of others too

i judge(d) everything against beatles dylan

thats why when people say to me

oh steve forget the singing on such n such …just listen to the music…

but after dylan n lennon as benchmarks who can listen to such dribble

as 99% of the stuff one must endure at any given time

the sixties were not all brilliant geniuses

there was the same awful stuff as well

the unimaginative cutesy maudlin slop

someone always exists to like and buy that i guess

i learnt to draw influence from the things i really hated

i analysed why i hated them so

it was so i could make sure those things were not in my songs

people have always asked me why i am so vehement in my hatred of some songs

it is because terrible rock music affects me at a deep level

like a surgeon seeing a bad scar

or a hairdresser seeing a bad haircut

this is my field and i can never just have a casual relationship with music

i cant just let it go

someone asked me about the group bread

i liked hearing bread on the radio when i was sixteen

they were not dylan or the beatles

i guess their sheer prettiness got to me

i have guilty pleasures and weaknesses just like anybody else

some things seem to defy my usual heavy handed criticism

but i listened to things on the radio that displeased me

and i thought about why

almost as much as i thought about why i liked the other stuff

it was good for me to be so polarised

many things came along that i liked

byrds donovon simon n garfunkel traffic walker bros the who

all the time i was enjoying i suppose i was trying to figure it out

many things came along i disliked

country n western disco dance pub rock etc

all the time i’m not enjoying i suppose i was trying to figure it out

there were certain recurring patterns that i began to perceive

of course i hadnt picked up an instrument yet

i had some dismal failure at piano lessons at age 11

but i guess i assumed i’d be able to play something when the time came

at this pre 16 age i was gathering information that would be indispensable later

but i have always been studying songwriting and music making

music has always moved me in such unexpected and delightful ways

i wanted to recreate that feeling i felt ….partially for a selfish egotistic reason

its always been there i suppose it always will

some of what i do is motivated by a desire to show off and be the best

nevertheless it is an energy to tap into

i have thought long and hard about rock music

nothing about what i do is accidental

except paradoxically my actual songwriting techniques

which recombine my various bytes of information endlessly

such is my wealth of opinion/knowledge that this produces newish stuff

most of the time……

more tomorrow on ttb

the raising of the whole man and nothing else shall be our agenda

my tinnitus having reached an intolerable level

i am currently listening to a possible cure

which is a series of pieces of classical music cut up just a little

the music and frequencies

and some of the gymnastics the music requires of the eardrum

is said to achieve “the opening” or the tinnitus’ sufferers nirvana

a complete cessation of the constant high pitched ringing your damaged ears make

anyhow im listening to a lot of stuff i never heard before

a lot of music and i gotta listen 2 to 3 hours a day on earphones

so you know i’m saying to myself

well old bean maybe you can learn something here

some ideas here you can plunder and turn around

but what i cant get past is the intention of most of this stuff

i cant understand what emotion the composer hoped to induce in the listener

and that confounds me because thats where i start my process of creation

the very first point of each thing is : how will this make you feel ?

now some of this stuff is lesser known bits but still by famous types

your mozart your ludvig von your bach etc

the beatles stones and dylan of classical music someone could say

muse : yeah …some philistine could say that….

anyway i just cant get past their intention of what feelings this music conveys

look i know i know as much about classical music

as your aunty maude probably knows about wu tang clans latest record

so i come in in a naive very rocknroll approach

i ask myself how does it make me feel…?

what is the predominant emotion evoked by these sounds…?

and i have to answer that most of it seems prissy and florid

and it makes me feel like

ive just spent 3 hours with a very supercilious pedantic interior decorator

or been reading some mills n boon romance of endless pointless dalliance

or some other exacting but unrewarding demonstration of pomposity

i cant find any feelings in here for me

i find intelligence yes in spades but never in hearts

no lust no passion no revenge no wild sudden excitements

maybe i am just not attracted to the music of those centuries

i dont enjoy  all the things that make it great

its precision its instrumentation its conventions

once my mind was blown by rocknroll

there was too little left for anything else

listening to this classical stuff

is like having tea and scones with some upper class 19th century suffragette

you know very admirable but i’m gonna have screaming claustrophobia in 1 minute

this classical stuff is like a game of cricket

a lot of boring types a lot of rules and ritual but hardly any action

very very white very very middle class very very unmagical

on the other hand you got heavy metal music which is like american footy

a load of overdressed oafs running around in some over-planned malarkey

a lot of roman testosterone bluster but no greek beauty or magic

(it seems to the uninitiated like moi)

they are both impenetrable to me

what is the intention of heavy metal music…?

to frighten you…if youre about 14 and believe beelzebubs  under the bed?

i dont know it all seems so silly to me

the blues is the most boring thing

but youre not supposed to say that….

its legends its techniques its triumphs its aesthetic

i cant concentrate on it any longer than 5 seconds

trad jazz i really hate…what emotion is that supposed to be…?

i dont understand anything other than rock

all of the others seem hopelessly one dimensional to me

which of these others can contain rage or insanity or euphoria

its all either too cerebral or dumbed down to a caricature of itself

i look on in amazement at country stars and they gotta be having a laugh, right…?

so much music seems so devoid of wonder or spirit

too stiff

or too mind numbingly simple

too parochial or too highbrow

overwhelmed by its own western fussiness

or  its own  primitive physicality

or   its own stupid right wing country bumpkin maudlin jive

or by its own college boy jolliness

or by its own snobby elitism

or whatever all that music is that i hate

yes i hate it all i cannot abide it

like a master vegan chef eating KFC

or a hedonist in a monastery

or a cat among the pigeons

i loathe rap

i detest all metal of any description

i abhor soft rock as epitomised by billy joel or elton

i hate boy and girl bands

i hate punk i hate new wave and new romantic

i hate disco i hate dance i hate baggy i hate grunge

i hate novelty and retro

i hate fifties and doo wop

i hate overt politics feminism religion

i hate needless frivolity jollity  or cheeriness

i hate pathetic laughable morbidity  (ie death metal)

i hate the silly voices in opera and in those modern auto-tune gadgets

i hate christian rock i hate satanic rock

i hate it too professional or too amateur

somewhere out there though someone is getting it right

the right amount of tradition and innovation

the right ratio of new and old

the right mixture of prowess and intuition

music that could contain destruction and creation and sex and soul

all at once mysteriously reconciling everything

the beat of  africa its urgency its earthly compulsion

the sub-continental drone of the eternal spirit like a mesmeric trance

the scientific mathematical european intelligence as applied to music

i cannot understand much classical music as i cannot understand mathematics

an equation or an opera ….my rigid brain was never having any of it

the absolute first priority for me beyond anything else is : is there any magic?

why do i want art that does not contain any magic?

i have the real world if i want an apparent absence of magic

isnt that why i want my art…because i want some magic…?

i refuse to believe there is no magic

so i have looked for it in sex and drugs and rocknroll

i have also looked for it in arcane and esoterica and  religion and philosophy

to me there is no magic in most sport or reality tv

to me there is no magic in soapies or gossip mags

to me there is no magic in alcohol or car races

to me there is no magic in conservatives or lefties

no magic in kim kardashian or the national anthem

no magic in computer animated films for children

no magic in betting on the horses or going to the pub

no magic in shopping or hunting

no magic in macho posturing or simpering effeminate ninnies

no magic in patriotism or terrorism or situationism

no magic in the snob or the barbarian

no magic at work no magic on holiday

yet still magic abounds

my favourite music has magic in abundance

my kind of magic because it is a very personal ideal

nonetheless it is my crusade

yes my blurred crusade if i may be so obvious

my favourite music seems as if it was made of magic

and its intent was to enchant

rock is at its best when it is at its most magical

like uh magical mystery tour for example

its oozing magic on almost every level that can be perceived

a fantastic magic and mystery thing the english can do so well

the beatles and cs lewis and genesis and tolkien

and america has dylan and his wild maverick magic

and a load of others

all countries have their magical and mundane…dont they..?

anyway magic is always on my menu

and my intent is always magic

even if my delivery is sometimes

quite ordinary

magic is always my intent

september has come ...autumn or spring.....?

the arcadian night

Love, drinking deep in his hush

decreed a banquet in exile under the meridian stars

then draped in crimson under the foreshadowing trees

he  clapped for his rock and roll to be summoned

all dappled as he was in the moonish light

all suckered by the glimmering points in blackness of a total sky

vibrato fingered love : flesh upholstered leisure master

the unbridling of the tropical sea

i call it the white sea said Love

oh love we do not dare to displease thee answered the ripplish waves

and so Love clapped his divine  hands again

his royal chubby fingers in so delighting the baby angels in the trees

where oh where is my sweet rock and roll ? he thundered under his breath

then the drummer appears to a mighty roar from the assembled little deities

he sits down at the kit and begins to play

hes a real walloper

bang boom bang boom boom bang bang crash

yes thats it …!

Love cries out and leaps up from his fairy dust encrusted throne

the bass guitar is so fucking obvious…man….

but thats what you adore about it

its simple its like sex it just hammers away…8th notes…

the drums and the bass maintain cruising altitude for a while

they lock in inexorably and you feel like your in the presence of…..

and then oh sublime…!

2 electric guitars enter permanently intertwined around the other

like snakes around a staff

or like spirit wraiths chained together yet aching to be free

Love lives in his void but the music rushes into fillet

no one can explain rock and roll..!

Love smiles gently within the island night

the guitars contradict and refute each other

they are opposites or they are twins

one minute one thing next minute something else

the originality of their sound

the bold virtuosity of the playing

the clever use and restraint of technology

the way the 2 guitars come together at times and sound like an orchestra

the way they sometimes attempt to deny the others existence

the sheer volume that ricochets around in your skull

these things defy analysis

they achieve their effect not as an analogous picture of the real world

they themselves are hyper real and their reality supersedes most others

and then the voice….

sing it out …! yells Love from his balcony

Love has the best seats in the open roofed house

the words are unexpected

they seem to be talking to you

the voice is confidential

mentioning matters you thought were strictly your own

it comes in waves as some strange effect causes tremolo in the songs throat

one paradox is the songs simultaneously anthemic yet intimate nature

huge and sleek and fast and distant

then suddenly

fragile and hesitant and blurry and near

a certain combination of notes and chords

a certain combination of words

this music is sending me there ….Love again

and now he hears the piano which shudders on the beat

the authoritative lower register

the plaintiff tinkling up high

and other instruments too now discernible

the harp caught in the percussion

the violins which stand off   making quick stabs

the lonely lost flute buried in the background only sometimes coming thru

more voices singing in round to the first singer

an unusual harmony to his melody adds a poignant urgency

my favourite band….EVER!  thus spake Love king of the balmy night

and so the piece of music undulates and meanders throughout the silence

a river of song containing all its reeds and mouths

a life without music is a waste of time said nietzsche

there is no life without music !says Love crying his soft tears

and with that

the curtain falls

crescendo

needing to be pulled apart to be put back together again

some words sink in

finally some sense a calm permeates the ship

a resolve settles over me like a deep warm night

inside i am still

those nagging shots of failure and regret

well i cant feel them anymore like i used to

as i speed across the unlit seas into the mysterious sudden

life after death : to be confirmed

time of death : to be announced

meanwhile the rocky road the hard way

the subtle difference between dharma bum and half assed ninny

making everybody happy  n keeping em happy …sisyphus would spew…

then a treatment which proves surprisingly effective in many ways

some bad mojo detected and made null and void

your hero now out there clobbering more art conundrums than ever

feel different but cant say exactly why

slightly new and a little improved

detached from an awful lot of malarkey that was getting to me

as clearheaded as it gets for an old loony poetic type

thats it carry on

ps SK premium is about to happen

will all the people who have  already paid 100 dollars for SK premium subscription

please confirm their transaction details with sam@thetimebeing.com and  you will

receive your david neil download code as your first gift from us….

animal vegetable mineral

the mastered marvel is fast and invisible

they make it look so easy and it is…on paper

we artisans fashioning something from nothing that means something

we hammer on the anvil of song

we beat the molten music into weapons to pierce the aura

because priest equals cura

and no insurer is any surer than me

i catch ideas in the wind that blows thru the curtains

some tiny wight i know is on my side

each morning the songs are written and the poems composed

my 3 string guitar just hangs on a wall

and sometimes it groans like its bursting with song

what stops us i wonder from creating something beyond

beyond the reach of SHP even

what stays the hand on the verge of discovering some original truth

some new axiom disguised as a song painting

some new parable encoded within the poets delirious rants

some new breakthrough seen within a childs story

the long evening of religion still overshadows

the brief morning of science

anything is still theoretically possible within noble art

art music literature to uplift and affirm the dormant divinity in man

this is the only reason for what those masters have done and will do

we gasp at such and such…

why he has performed a partial recreation of the world…!

we cannot understand how this other fellow

manages to whisper our own secret thoughts

in an ear in our minds

the masters refine their movements to the slightest ghost of a touch

they are born with the power easily rekindled

the masters contain the darkness and the light

the masters reconcile the apparent opposites life and death

i am inspired by the shining brilliance of their works

their murals their symphonies their double albums

humanity chucks some prodigy at the glowering sky

the ego so swollen and filled with bad blood

at some time even the great masters may crash

fall from painting the cosmos on a ceiling

fall from a stage into the surging crowd below

fall from the roof of your little tuscan cottage

with the hazy gauzy summer light

constantly making you wonder : am i dreaming…?

still the mission must remain the enrichment of the soul

to live in constant wonder because everything blows your tidy mind

pride like summer then always before the fall

and then by saying precisely nothing you have said it all

a tambourine hit

a favourite brush

the texture of the paper and the way it influences everything else

the masters have more nuance than the skies have stars

ambiguity is a lifetimes work

the exploration of the smallest shades of the unfamiliar

the painting of your life

all the colours regraded and somehow the blue/purple is saturated

music remains the king of all art

it is untouchable in its power to dominate obsess or uplift the spirit

music invoking everything in just a few notes

the masters shook the jesus out of every incredible composition

the masters understand it all from the hugest to the most minute

as they glorify god and glorify the devil

in the complex strands they will weave

there is so much to keep in such brilliant minds

is it any wonder they become foggy and lose their way….?

like paul in tahiti stumbling through colour beds

or ravel with hypnotic simplicity that opens the door

or marc chagall who let it all be wherever it wanted

or john lennon whose piano was bitter and wise

every master an apparition on mundanity screen

looking for an oasis in religions wasteland and sciences just deserts

yet i am not guided by nothing at all

nor more so they who wield the most gifted vision

life is interpretable as you can see

the masters take life and they make it much larger

you wished you lived in that music or film

oh why cant life be like a song or a book….?

the masters intercept the image at face value

each enters the game on his or her own level

like archers who shoot for the heart of our world

apollo whose arrows were the deadliest music

volted bolts too sublime to perceive

so every genius holds a living flame in his hand

to illuminate dark ages and give them some hope

this ambiguous hope then i strive to convey

its a hope only glimpsed never held never touched

an unspecified glimmer among all that doubt

i cant buy any of the stories theyre selling

evolution or eden …..is that really the choice…?

i dont trust the religionists theyre always so wrong

they believe in things a child can see are stupid

our god isnt vengeful

we are not born in sin

and all of this was for us to groove about in

science has been changing its mind ever since it all began

not every miracle occurs in its crucibles and tubes

i’m sure some mysteries can never even be explained by mere men

so i keep on searching for the elusive beauty of ambiguous hope

may it fill all works of art with oomph!

chemical flame

brian smith sent me a timely article that

some scientists have just postulated :

marijuana can cause a condition

known as semantic hyper priming …..

in which the mind matches words from a larger pool of possible associations

thus giving the stoned poet a bit of a jump on some sober rival

wow havent i been saying that for years …?

and it doesnt just do that for verbal concepts either….

some strange thing in pot can make certain artists

come up with new ideas across the board

i always said that like a switchboard getting all mixed up

parts of the brain speaking to each other that normally dont

yeah it works for some n not for others….

kids dont try this at home etc…..

insert your favourite caveat here

semantic hyper priming eh….?

well i’ll be a monkeys uncle typing out the complete works of shakespeare

semantic hyper priming…..huh….well one has to do ones bit for things like that…

you mean i wanna be the top poet in this town n theres something out there give me SHP?
SHP……..you kidding me

semantic hyper fucking priming why that is the wholly grail of your average jason rimbaud

why you smoke a lil’ THC n you got SHP…i mean ….LOL……

all them fuggen connections in my mind man

just like the time being man like he said the words coming off a roll in his skull

fuck my aunty warned me against SHP man

she said steven those words gotta come from somewhere man

no fucking way!

pot gives you all them words man and more

more fucking words than you can handle man if you aint dylan bobalaire

watch out! there should be a warning on neils purple heads

exactly now you think david neil did not exist then go back and listen

remindlessness done in 1989 and i sing of neils purple heads

yes i needed that SHP then and always

just think …and is that why theyve banned it ..it wouldnt be fair..

imagine at the poetry playoffs …all them poets with artificially induced SHP

just freely associatin’ some fucken bullzshit

ooh wow imagine that surge of delicious semantic hyper priming

oh fuck yes it will feel good just like nevets yeblik choofing on the bone

words flooding inner my brain oh wow like….man…its insane….

imagine meeting chicks inner bar i will say hey babe i’m a SHPer…

how about you babe hows yer vocab hows yer priming hows yer rhyming…?

and all you needed all along was a bong ..bang you gotta song

seems not for some nongs …no matter how many bongs …….

ok guess i ‘ll get along

man it feels good to have all this most excellent SHP at my wherewithal

mmm it feels good…….

0

when its gone a way

the insatiable truth continues to admit all possibilities

even some idiot says life on this planet is an accident

yeah sure it is….does that make you feel better…?

a complete and total fluke…boy see that lightning hit the primordial soup…!

your head is no good if your hearts not in it

your head in the clouds

water lifted from the sea

many creatures make me up

the unicorn and the lion

the griffin and the snake

history myth religion

the past is all of these

you can never touch it with your hands

it exists only as an idea

a real mystery …who can crack the past…?

the future yes …..but the past no…..

or what….?

marble skin turn human

beyond silver distance

entangled in the futures delerious network

the roots and tendrils of events come choking our life

oh my photosynthetic spirit which pulls in light and exhales love

my dark devil who lives in the earth deep in its fiery guts

from my mother i inherited this

from my father i inherited that

from an endless web of ancestors a random list of proclivities

from an incredible intake of impressions

i am a camera that films everything

i am a sensitive device recording unknown emotion

i am a  single point giving off my incessant transmission

a random poem generator

i sweep away the leaves of the unconscious

i collect debris found in our minds and i assemble patterns

from old words and conversations i refashion anew imaginary things

i mingle our dreams freely and with fingers of thought i shape music

my voice is an actor who speaks in your ear

my voice says you are living inside of this song

and a door opens up and youre walking on through

and the guitars seem to be saying something to you

oh….there….you can see this place you have been set down

and you must like it because you want to return over and over

i made that little door for you and i suggested that adventure

but that world was yours amigo

i am the architect of that dream

i move thru this world a bohemian trample

but every now and then some powerful man will genuflect to me a mere nobody

and his companions do say how is it that you hold yon minstrel in such regard

and he says ah but he is given me a door into a private world

there where a man may find rest i listen and am transported

you see this important task has fallen to me

i am staggering under the weight of this responsibility

i fight tooth and nail for all will dilute it or dispute it or loot it

the being of light and the dark devil duking it out in a room in my brain

the extreme twin opposites of good and evil act like a motor firing in my mind

the electricity in me is charged and refreshed

and the chemical intercourse between the synapses is rich and fruitful

some magical editor appears sorting it all out

a panel of guests assembles offering suggestions i can hear them so clearly

my muse so elusive yet generous even in her own absence

my mind is a trap catching all nature of things

this stuff i regurgitate comes like a telex on a reel

i bring it to you fresh from the sea of possibility

observance

utilityfeverpropensityflighttreacheryfallreturnconcentrationsainthoodmaskimpressionthoughtallusionsistercircustextureclairvoyancelight