page 54 dynamic, riffin on crow

yeah. you know what i noticed about not playing the clown?
they got me in a suit and painted my face n everything
so they don't know the difference. i don't know if i'm lucky
or not, since i seem to be able to.

last nite i was invited to write a wish on a scrap of paper.
there was twine to tie it with, or you could crumple it up
and stick it in the crevices of the log to be burnt at the night's close.
i didn't see what phase the moon was in. the woman next to me
made spells with her hands. i was taken back to your sliding glass
door where i did the same, my back to you, engaged in the motion
not feeling pain or desire or wishing for anything. conduit.
this is the sweet spot jack talks about, the way your piano rolls
under your fingers and for a moment you and the music
are the lovers you wanted to be born into. maybe you smile.
i don't know. i wasn't there. maybe you grimace in concentration
not trying to control, only trying to hear what's being played thru you.

i dunno. i was there with the drums or a voice of a time
you remember? we had sex without bodies? or was that
just me because i'm still stuck in the flesh metaphor and until i can kick it
i won't reach nirvana. see, how i look at it is god keeps dressing up
in these bodies cuz no matter which, pain or pleasure, it's not the void
and god has had enough of that for a while.