the algorithm will think this was us

for my mother

deep in mushroom trips, i often see myself as becoming like my grandfathers ~ today i remembered (from morning to present—evening) i am not who i say i am, i am what i do with my hands

at this late hour, all things dissolve—all of us are together; this is the poetical imagination; it’s still new to me, still ominous; it is not an era for victory or satisfaction; it is a season for sighing, and lifting others up with our arms if our strength has held to this point

we are gonna save ourselves and each other; i write this through a psychic rainstorm of too much memory and imagination

this is incomplete but i love you

🥲 🌊

--

filling the blinking cursor with whatever comes up, letting the leviathan lead me to glory, singing popular music covers on video on Smule too, speaker, rambler

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Geoffrey Lewis

filling the blinking cursor with whatever comes up, letting the leviathan lead me to glory, singing popular music covers on video on Smule too, speaker, rambler