Neither Up Nor Down
the letters in the book
But there is
It blocks the view
Where now He gallantly grips the stringed ladle
I can barely see the picture of Death
The WORD. That is the Fender Stratocaster.
Now There is a spell put on me
Hear it Coming from a painted lady
the noise That kisses
In The sky...that runs with raindrops.
It blocks the voice
That should be
Iterating the equations and the numbers
Not PURPLE HAZE.