1087

And you don't stop
You get up and have your thoughts
The thoughts knock on the doors of the feelings
All the checking accounts are gone to Indiana
With some play-doh on their dreams
Ideal forms of rhizomes and mazey-faced question marks
I'd tell up a little electricity
Into a matrix of references and set a while in Senegal
With my people I give up possessive pronouns
And loop it, loop it
By the look of the everything it's a case for Jesus
That's my easter song I've got a bad case of Jesus
I'm going to cure with a little Yehudi Menuhin
Nobody knows the unity like critics
Playing for time tracking down the pretty pretty jokes
Staggered by this other slow fire they call fame
At the institute for quantifying flow they take one glance
At the younger me walking in black
"Come back in ten years y'all, you're off our charts"
But I never left I never even put you down
As much as it might have helped
To see the caravan dispersed and your books boxed up
Be shown the way out of your klein bottle
Don't ghoti for compliments I was there ten years ago too
It don't matter, we're here for life
It would be nice if you had some
Or even some books with some feeling in them
Besides an itch, those are recipes for symphonies
And you're making origami with them
That's your soul's dowry's hope chest
And you put it in the attic full of unread junk mail
I'm not the one to tell you what your life is
I've got enough to worry about here with my people in Bali
Get where you're going and call when you arrive