A blue bus of red Indians
are dragging along a Greek God
and all that they touch becomes.
Angels and dogs protected by a cactus
drink whiskey and marrow
and hammer away on a cross.
Opened back alleys and closed chests
garnished with white feathers, a lizardskin
is what they want to raise to the sky:
‘Give a microphone, expose to the Eye’
tripy trip
Long live the lizard king! And it kind of nowadays makes me think of the first people arriving in Auroville in the late sixties, something with a blue bus and Indians and all this red earth…