Year Of The Gone

The Night

Year Of The Gone


It was the night that I got
my one golden idea.
The night:
everything all became clear.
The night of faraway glances,
wild gestures,
and fantastic displays
of marvel and fear.

The night of perfect decisions:
blissful fruition in strawberry fields.

The night of black horses,
storming blue meadows,
and monsters in caves
that are sealed.

The night the sun came undone
(I am ready)
...if only John Lennon were here.

It was the night.

There were:
pink balloons floating,
planes crashing
imploding,
white cats and
red roses trancing, ferocious
the question
was answered
in time to the rhythm
at the end
of the river.

It was the night.


It was the night that we
took our clothes off,
and tumbled
euphorically
through the maze of despair.
The night the sun came undone
(I am ready)
...if only John Lennon were here.

Grey butterflies became
clouds in the sky.
I see right through them
with my
new, clear eyes.
I had immortal feelings,
saw illnesses healing,
the prophets appealed to me,
karmic wheel squeeling.
The infinte funnel
...the circular tunnel
now that it's real...

how does it feel?

It was the night.

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