I watched the Superbowl on a dark TV. It was a night to remember. Talking to the theater of ancestors about the free things we sometimes receive as gifts and creations of sanguine evaporation we return to the Earth and donate to the black sky. The bowl, it's up there and sometimes it's empty and sometimes it's filled with almost everything. To the left was the ring from a cup. To the right was the wine spilled on the ground. I'm soberish except for the tea I offered to some of the scariest people in Media. They are here for us. And I teach them a personal lesson of a broken path. That has been difficult but is incomplete. The stories and contradictions obviously never end. Who won the Superbowl? The Mesosphere. I have forgotten because they are immediate and I am still unsportsmanlike when I am unsure of the singular Eagle and Chief who balance and shut out one or the other from time to time. Nature is always and burdened and in the true existence every day is a supper bowl. I have a castle in the deepest blue. It's made of one word. But can be translated endlessly. I am thinking of? Commitment to something or someone enticing. Distant and possible, A poet who wins affection and I am losing as I let the famous water inebriate us all. It's the peace most crave and the peace most crave. I'm serious now. Winning a bowl to carry and share the contents filled with an entangled existence. I used to play now I return from the difficult harm. Better than a win because sometimes you lose, and the loss is information. Home and the stars and a heaven in a GTC.
Welcome home. Nows the after-party where we get serious.
Live and stay alert. Late.
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