A little poem for the new year and Pleasant regards to all... In the shimmering field Of the fluctuating, incandescent Thing Out of which we pop As electrons In this boiling field (as Feynman says) Of possibilities And of stuff Somehow we bugger about Like clumsy oafs Searching for a bite For a warm hearth Looking for solace While the field offers up More possibilites More coiling, swirling patterns
I always knew it was psychedelic Since my brother told me And showed me how to draw weird Abstract and pleasing shapes With a pencil on a sheet of scrap paper While listening to The Moody Blues In a dim room with a fireplace While the wind Whipped the yew trees And the dog stretched pleasant By the fire Simon
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