As Pure As Imagination Is : Apropos Grooving To the Word

as pure as imagination is (apropos grooving to the word) imagine this: drumming words to 88 keys rainbow ending into each other mellowing out like trane waters streaming tears flowing sidewalk raise banks to drains cascading monk falls following birds to sea to be free— the real macoy how time flies— wingless as it is leaving grooves with unseen notes screaming night and day melodies exploding like cannonballs sliding out and up bursting a staccato rife pounding drifting away to return when words wish to play again an up tempo write as pure as imagination is—boo du de boo de boo