Gilbeau

A job awaits As a (?) along the water tides The mountains spread themselves into our lives As our stringed-out minds become part with the universe A feeling mixed with something more than our lives can expand upon The sand rose upon our bodies Like a fox that we must deliver Into our own hands Others have sand in their minds control us (?) Over and over Until we feel no more Than the man-made rip From the sewer of the earth(?) Exposing itself Showing itself to us As a mirror shows the image What do we feel? What do we mean? The wind whirls itself Tornado-like, into my own vision Blues and reds become grays The black woman escapes her ghetto trap Seeking some kind of vengeance Against her own entrapment Said "Hey Are you gonna run now?" The beach, is itself The woman becomes part of it Catch me, one time Again, maybe The creator is in my own mind And I become part of "It" I stare away, whirling and whirling Throughout a universe Made by stars burning out I can feel its heat, bathing A heat created by my own hands Do you ever feel your own hands? Sand creates my images Once again, a mirror world So tornado-like Part of my mind becomes part of your mind And I escape, again Killing might not be so bad (?) rock And I become the rock Run over me for two thousand years And I become the sun Touch me I want somebody to touch me I want somebody to touch me