Poem | "Thunder Painting"
Don't be desireous under White Mountain
The river's tall feathered tail
Will turn you into a fountain.
Will wish you away
To a faraway place
In the dream boat's desert Sun
Buried beneath a 17th century ruin.
You won't get to stay up and play.
Each door will turn you away
You won't burn your fires at midnight
Or dream of the horse haired magic at twilight.
The cattle callers will stake their claim
Down your captured mustang mane.
This time it has begun.
Now you are forever on the run
From the father with a shot gun
From the book that's never done.
A story of a man who climbed a rope
And a Giant up there with whom he'd have to cope.
If not he may sleep on the stove or be a meal
When there's a castle on your head
That's part of the deal.
If you find your way down
You'll be the talk of the town.
Covered in Goose down
Eveywhere to go golden eggs rolling around.
Rescue Mother from debt.
Get this weight off of your head.
Lift the Goddess of Sais' silken veil.
For the New World set sail.
Bury your Indian master whose been two places at once
Before he sells Manhattan for just a buck.
Inside his pipe is a 10,000 year old pine,
Japanese Geisha girls and black Saki wine.
It's one hundred home made catamarans
Sailing Chinese warriors to settle Peruvian lands.
They'll block your walls and tear down your office
If all you can think of
Is sex with the White Buffalo Goddess.
So when you approach her, lay down your mask.
Let the blue Moon dance on the snowy fields and pass.
Let the deer's eyes see through the men with guns
To the glistening forest and endless mountains beyond.
