“A poem about psychedelic trips.”

I sat here calmly waiting,
and now I feel a thunder
crawling in blues and whites
wrapping under reds and purples.

The world is shrieking lovely
in a twisted red blur
in an irresistible spell
that bounces with the beat.

From drab concrete came forests
of gargoyles that dance and fires
that swam up the stairs to sway
with the leaking music from far away.

The glow rips peace in my skin

and burrows fog to rest in me

as I hop like butter in a pan
in my new overflowing world.