Thistle and Vine

Im found turned up on the couch
Next to you while you watch Bond
I have the land of Oz under my tongue
There is no where for this day to run
Except out
I can touch my own sense of daily pattern
And I know this town like I know my own information
I can hear the music I want to hear
And I feel myself grow bigger
In every way
Sulky countries aren't too far away
One tin plane and one dead month
I can hear the moments and I don't know if you will get the postcard
I know where the sun is
I know where it will set
There is every chance I will wish at least one wish tonight
And with all those horses waiting for their riders
It makes me wonder
It makes me think of what is best
And the drummer shouldn't worry
Like the blue eyed that scan the page looking for the saved soul
We can find it
Planes fly a long way
We walk along dirt paths
And the crescent eyes are guided by words that are said to the hills
I can think of the sun I can think of the speakers
Spanish flowers and sexual errors
A great trumpet that will be blasted to the stars
Im here but I'm looking through the dark room
I am 'Jamming my fingers in the back door'
Running my hand over thistle and vine
There isn't enough time for the patterns of this art
And as you kick the air I see the countryside open
The peaking moment passes
We are all just hear now
Bearing each others passing genius
I know that you are the man in the park
The child on the carpet
The person turned up on the couch
Wondering on the city he never liked
It is a fresh moment that exists on the brow
Long and cool
The institution and the gallery
Where I will hold you in installation
Until sold at auction


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