ah
those great imagined wells
of purest, coolest quality
where we draw our qualia
those imagined wells, great
infinite depths, expressions
with all their favourite forms
now roiling, now rippling, and still now,
better, or
none negating of others
like oils and waters, i sail
on a complex mixture -
a complex mixture,
this great god bouquet
and oh pan, for the path,
and lentil, how i find it,
and suffering
and grace
whatever their names
and the ones with the extent of -
my choice where i draw
my choice which i drink
other things said
and how the difference between
imaginary and real
is like the difference between
artificial and natural. it's artificial,
imaginary. a matter
of contrivance
or lack thereof
