Tag: psychedelic poetry
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Sandman Express VII
all that’s left at the end of this story’s a struggle, a penniless offering from the scantest corners of a forest, the scent of a long-forgotten tear like melted yellow perfume and a snap of the fingers that sent up a parachute like a tornado of fried tumble weeds, a pocketful of gleaming teeth strung…
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Sandman Express VI
Read more of the Sandman Express poems. except when he left it mattered that someone had stolen the barrel and plucked out the wood like a house of broken marionettes it was a scene that played out like a two-cent fiddle, a rhyme that never rounded the bend, an unholy landslide that broke through a…
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Sandman Express V
Read more of the Sandman Express poems. the price, in the beginning, was a simple necktie with a knot like a half-eaten moon, a vase of flowers and the dust from a magic carpet that had sailed to all seven setting suns or so said that wiry old mystic as we shotgunned along on his…
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Sandman Express IV
Read Sandman Express, Parts I, II, and III. i never imagined it would all disappear this way, a grove of floating oranges and sapphire giraffes, an acre of magic grass that shone like an eyeful of diamonds out the busted windows of the Sandman, that harbinger of technicolor dreams, while the old hippie wizard and…
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Sandman Express III
Read Part I and Part II of “Sandman Express.” III. now, it is time i direct your attention to the twilight of my fantasy, a scene that begins with the skin of a tangerine, a poison green snail, and my hopes of finding an old desert paradise, that tequila-covered oasis made of sun and hay,…
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Sandman Express II
Read Part I of “Sandman Express.” II. notice how this scene ends with an apparition, of course a wink and a nod and a sip or two of warm ale, an old trick of the Sandman, that feral-eyed Merlin chugging across the world on his train like a mad reindeer full of fairy dust and…
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Sandman Express
Original artwork by T. Blake it was a muddy winter and the trains were always late i was heading west of the city— i was sure of it—by the gaps on a map i found in a dream under a forgotten stagecoach just south of the old diagonals, it told me, west of a buried…
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Wild Card
Original artwork by T. Blake the night was broken, as we know, and what was missing was the blood-pink moon i asked a star for directions, on my way due west, i could not say but by the eyes of the owls was led down a staircase that spiraled to the cellar of the earth…