you come in colors. i once rode a bicycle over a mountain pass and coasted down the other side until i approached an isolated house that looked as if it had been scribbled on the landscape. i knocked on the door and was greeted by max ernst. it was his house. he invited me in. he was a delightful host. this was a dream, from many years ago, but it sticks with me. i'm pretty sure you've been to max ernst's house, too.
he does come in colors. he's a rainbow. there's a rainbow. i like washed out traffic lights. i watch out at traffic lights. i traffic in lights. light traffic on the 405 eastbound this morning but some congestion developing in the arteries. artilleries. artie liesk.
The two doors;escapes/entrances/lightopenings and blockadesloveliest to methanks, tim.
Post a Comment