Last Night in the desert for D.G. with love from the DIRT & a desert rat.In loving memory for all we have lost. RISE! or Thanks for the memories.
I still remember your number Used it as a password changer that one done got killed & I'm not sure who I am supposed to be now. In a house that's not a home no next of kin to call my own except everyone I used to know. Once I used a made up name at the emergency don't think they noticed I guess the papers for the last remains were filed a long time ago and the case disappeared like magic,the case was closed. See,some prophets are artists some artists are prophets usually There's a place I remember being free bluebirds sang through the night indigo You built a fire one day you visited me we drank brandy smoked some weed you grow not so much so as anyone would notice when you left it started to snow the fire burned on through the camper window thank you for being that memory the pony,express delivered me Almost got killed out there again remembered your number on a night ride where I traded a Charles Mingus and an ebow for a pack of American Spirit or something like that Sangre de Cristo say my name call me back every sunrise sunset Now I pick wildflowers by the road no one notices the old woman and a dog or at least I like to think so Could escape but would take have taken that bullet for you any time that plane crash seat so when you take a bow make it mean something You kept saying keep saying Can you feel me it? Put your phones down with all their unremembered names and numbers try to love the one who is unlovable an untouchable man seems so evil he is human just like you appeals to the worst instincts that's all the artist the prophet appeals to the best the poet always wanna take you higher so you can fly free like the blue birds of happiness. soundcloud.com/liz-gilbert/april1
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March 2019
ARTS PERMACULTURE
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