Ode to Los Angeles 30 fictitious angles.
B.O.M.S Rooted in Tradition and Nuanced Relatives
They belong to a Living Herd, Feeding School, Shoal, Brood Flock, Throng, Bevy Assemblage, Crush Drove, Multitude Populace, and Rusty Rabble.
A youthful thing isolated among other things.
Hone your 'Wayne Shorter United' sink salutes. Suspended synchronization of irregular edge lines mingling with curly marks.
Moods of grandma fragrances, so sweet buried in night flower garden polyester shirts. The couple who argued over the right way to load a dishwasher only to realize the fight wasn't about forks.
They also seem to enjoy literally digging grounds, Digging in all kinds of reddish to brown to black sacred soils. Cotton bolls.
Even the late D. Reinhardt, taken away to some lovely French landscape would be proud of this lyricism. The smell of green moss and wet winters mingled with the cello music.
These human ~ sophisticated cats and best intuitive dogs.
Necessities of Curious Pure Sweetness. Everyday sweet nectar smooth non-sexual pleasure.
Every opportunity is another ghost of a chance.
Calling to mind book leaves about ferrets and forgotten fuels.
Where you, The Visitor, are at this moment
could be a tempest arch
or freedom secretly cloaked in red, with a satin robe.
Horizons that float.