night wine1

Night is as deep as the wine allows. From where I sit, it's a sweet kind of evil, one that I have an acquired taste for. The night is dark, and darkness is good. With these winespirations I am a flight to behold, a sojourney into a ...how shall I say... I-soul-ation. Like I said, a velvety style of evil. I have the simple pleasure of having simple pleasures. Let me tell you about the meaning of wine entangled lips. On tonight's menu we have night wine entwined with beats boom-bap boom-bap loops. J Dilla, Detroit Champion, scratches his wax way beyond philosophy. From his hip hop afterlife I glide upon his foreverever, that straight dope cut right to the brain. Sips between sighs and damn that last swallow went well with that mellow piano. The rain rhythms my roof top's tip tap, nature's jazz boom bap and now the darkness hand claps as if I should dance. The wood heat wonder, trees spit back sunshine accreted in lignin skin. My home is a glowing memory of sunlight. I have the simple pleasure of my simple pleasures. I find myself at home with itself. After all, the man I am lives inside me, I look through his eyes. He claws open my winter flesh, the wounds of living turning to some music of serenity. It's another world in my little world. It's simple. Poems come in halves. This is the first half, as it happened from this moment which descends down a claret stairway, and I'm passing it to you. If you are a muse, amuse me. Find the other half as it returns with the dawn you hold in your p(s)alm. From where I'm looking, to where I'm looking to, there is all this music entwined with night wine that rhymes with the way light shines. In other words, that's the straight dope. Not just stoned, but beautiful.