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