there is no sequence in the polychromal doors
there is no grimace in my different plains
: functioning at multiverse
never touching
the screams in the eyes of other dreamers
other presences multiply

Shifting the gears of circumstance
the door is necessarily open and closed
and word may wander from room
to room
the door is a door is a corridor
is a textured glimpse

Sounding with touch the evidence
is falsified and true : and I am someone new
Will you come touch the colours in my spine ?
We took the party with us at some crazy hour
and the icecream smelt of oranges
Oh my!
the great ship tries to pull us back again
but everything's too strange

In the mellow light we flight our silver seeings
and everything's so strange out here with you
that time returns and you must pack your records
Out in the corridor you know at last
that you must catch the boat, back with the cast;
We were
together together alterdnatives, uebermenschen
with the aisles ringing in our ears

but you walked down some corridor
got off the bus, OR : went to a lower-drive
colour scale and there is nothing I would say
: for both of us
to be drawn in by the magnet is enough
the barriers come down on some different reality

For some the questions sitll remain : how does
the room feel
with all these objects lying around in it?
how does the room feel when I come back into it ?
What is its relationship with the objects when I'm outside ?
the room, if it didn't like me could kill me
Kill me with its presence.
When the barriers come down there can be no divide
there can be no between : I am the room - the room is me.

You leave one thing behind and you discover
a thousand-million which you leave behind
you leave the room behind, with simple sandals
on your feet approach the Nowhere land
Nowhere and everywhere a conflict of opposites
A synthesis of opposites
is the aim and you're yum plum in the city
Edge city where the pyramids grow like daisies

You´re there, the fluency exists, the luminocity
exists
the word is meaningless and in a sense
you are beyond both word and sense
And oh! bright being
they will say you are insane and lock you in a filing-cabinet
together with your name, and some sterilised labels

with squiggles on them. Let them play scrabble
with your brains, let them excise and tabulate
everything right down to your mortal remains
for it is they
who are insane, knowing nothing of sanity
or being, having never seen the essence in the dream.