Blue Pyramids

Listening to the birds of ancient rymedies, we were sharing music around America’s modern camp fire. driving through tiny plazas and scenic pastures skimming into the what looked like the grey, paved future. asking myself, what’s worth more than a rhythm of my time, A moment of hate? Or the recognition of love? The answer- must be somewhere above the city scape, lost in the bluely lit pyramids. I can’t imagine turning this car home.