What is art, what is what. Who sweeps me when I step?
Is it you fervent brush, the ability to dodge angels,
keep on even keel though the phases are not complete.
Deep sleep, long time thinking before awakening.
Unkempt, provocative, armed with the sounds that
kept the neighbors awake in far off places,
San Francisco, Tulum, that allowed
others to howl with the moon, even keel,
to access the full night bloodletting around the fire.