slow dancing under a meteor shower

memories are clickbait. those parts of us that we cling to within the hopeless terms of ‘reality’. when the incidental remains on the shelf too long true meanings are lost. ashes of the dead cat scattered at the outlet.

entropy

i drag the past to a pit

and beat the shit out of it

dont own the clothes i am wearing

in the sixties a lot happened. most of it i will just keep to myself. but i will tell you that we spent little time keeping up appearances and even less wearing a stitch of covering. why did we go to southern california. why did we take spring break in florida. well. we let a lot more than our freak flags fly i can tell you that. 

on a porch

with no chairs

we rock all night

heavy metal prelude

my tastes in everything are eclectic. before i crank metallica and black sabbeth up to max on my car radio i listen to a little hillary han and khatia buniatishvili. if the world is going to ever be ‘fixed’ we are going to need every tool in the toolbox. 

the moment

before the last one

that was the best