In Xanadu did Kubla Khan. In apricot is doing not.
And absolute intent is only delayed by thought.
Meanwhile surfing a wave is a reoccurring metaphor in all
the great works of California.
Wouldn’t it be nice if God only knows—
(translating the sage in saying
following only love
appears as equal measures of pain and pleasure
but really is constantly always
pure bliss)
what’s in a name Wolfgang Amadeus Malibu?
Quicksilver radical in inner-knowing knowing nothing, one is
next to godliness, but being is the absolute unknown!
One personal story tells the curious marriage of not-knowing
and the magnificent distrust of the known.
Coyote trips between the thin and ever-thinning stretch of
beach between the dunes and sea—until Xanadu!
If a sonnet is fourteen lines, an epic is at least
double-digits.
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