you know i got at thing for black the lack of color the size the fragment the sweet taste of the primordial endlessness of grey afternoon sunday blue - Black i’ve got a thing for black - the end of time the wheel that turns the tide that breaks the wave the shore that sleeps the vision of why and where the sky that holds the stars that shine the dreams of man that walks the earth and looks for love and leaves sad at the recognition that nothing from nothing lasts forever and then bam! gone from all eternity in a giant hole called life - where does it all go when it stops going and why is the beginning always the sweetest part of love? - Black i’ve got a thing for black - the missing part of the spectrum of grey and the holy fire that spells the words that speak from the pit of nowhere to the seeds of the trees that grow in the sand before there were words to even say the way it could be if you never felt like this again - Black i’ve got a thing for black - don’t ask me why it’s just the way i see the streets in the midnight dawn before the thing we call god spit out the dream of existence and cried in his beard and kissed each babe with the touch of the sky and brought forth all of the places that pass for i don’t know maybe boise idaho where farmers and dirt bag trains met for a quick fix in the back porch of some american fantasy with henry fonda driving a beat up truck filled with dust to the other side of nirvana - where tired sailors rode steamships to the moon or left behind tracks of tears on the navajo trail - Black i’ve got a thing for black - the way it feels to know that there are no more colors to portray your tears and yet the immense place that is the heart beats its own chordal progression and takes forever and yet just a minute to speak the language of truth the moment the great here and nowness of the endless eternal golden shadow that hangs in velvet like curtains over canyons never greater than the space between each thought that ripples on a silent lake in a mind somewhere that sees what it wants to see in the epiphany of the realization of the television exalted warrior freedom of tathagata or walt whitman or horatio alger and the history of the earth that screams on its axis for liberation from the wheel that turns the sky Black i’ve got a thing for black - the skin of the native that shines with sweat in the african violet sun where people speak in tongues and giant webs of electricity sparkle in the july summer heaven of fifth grade innocence - why is the sky Black? i’ve got a thing for black and i don’t know why hawaiian orchids should be anything but the mickey mouse cartoon car color spearmint flavored double your money put it all on the red and i’ll take mine black - no sugar please or cream just pure unadulterated unfiltered unmessed with and pure sludge on the whirring wheel of the cosmic motor humming into the void vast sky star struck moon full of the who knows where or when it seems we’ve stood and talked like this before and maybe in another life or mind or body we met on a foreign beach that looks a lot like ibiza even though i’ve never been - this beginning that never starts and the end that cant stop itself from creaming the vowels for the sake of some poetry that could maybe save me at least for the time being from falling into the abyss of empty aching bliss or even howdy doody dreamtime - black zen black - i’ve got a thing for the absence of blue and red and yellow and yet i sit at the parade mouth open looking at the clowns juggling pyramids of logic in hands of rubber yet it goes on for for i dont know maybe six or seven minutes or maybe not - what’s the difference - why am i here why are you here where is i and you and us if it all ends in all of everything disappearing - why try why die why cry why live why not why not why not why not - what is the midget in the movie trying to tell me with his hat and eyes fixed on the perimeter of some galaxy in a new night beyond all redemption - jesus where are you and why don’t you walk on the water again to show the disbelievers what faith really isn’t - buddha sit there under your shade tree knowing that it’s all for nothing and yet i still wanna be famous so young girls will want to look deep into the mirror of my eyes and see themselves looking back and wish they could know what i really thought - Black Black Black - i love that bloody color - it’s the priest’s robes and the fur on the cat in the alley that crosses my path when i come home in the pre dawn jitters - so anyway like i was saying - i was standing on the corner of 4th and main when this crazy acrobat chick walks by on her hands saying i told you so - what was that all about? i’m still trying to decipher the last part of the first line of the new edition of the old testament - nah not in seven days - its just way too big to believe so i’ll just leave it at that - Black i’ve got a thing for black - i wish i was in big sur right now in a tree overlooking the pacific high on some new drug that took me out there on a ride that ended all rides like a great saxaphonesolo that circled in on itself and traced the lines of forever from the smallest fragment of timeless time to the roar of the traffic on 42nd street at noon on a monday in september - it just is - thats what all the great ones keep saying but what does that mean - is -just - it - argh! Black i love that word and dressing all in black with shades and looking mysterious like errol flynn in robin hood except he’s riding a blue horse and maid marion looks like ingrid bergman at 19 - we’ll meet again in some other biosphere as long as you need me to be your vision of who i’m not - it’s up to you, right? wrong! it’s up to me to dream you in my dream and give you a name and call you up to ask you for directions to the party

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