Blue clouds number nine, mystic flight.

“Sitting here on number nine,
all I did was drinking my wine.”

In beaten messed up rhyme,
wordless measures along the grapevine
watching the river going through my mind
touched my inner light deep inside,
some of it got lost in the misty atmosphere
of my first cigarette and a mass-produced
coffee patch.
Today I broke that number the open code
and found a worthless sentence to be within,
a certain smile made me listen for a while
with my wings in the infinite winds
beside the dream of the fragile child
playing in the wild nights of the ancient forest,
warm innocent tears in our third eyes
the living water of the true underground
goes beyond the desirable lies.

“Now you are a dreamer.”