If all the days of all the years were made of wine and gold
I’d roll them up into the light of intelligence in this one dog’s eyes
This friendship across species — a Buddhist mantra –
Rocks me like my good old boy, befriends me like the wind.
Be with me when the gates fly open — love will enter in.
Seek out the Majesty, the shaman-spirit that will be:
Come with me to the Paiut Wovoka ghost dance
Drive away every morsel of this dirty money-grabbing
Respectable massacre of everything that be wild, wilful, wondrous.
Artfulness creates resistance to the age of the machine
To the algorithms that manipulate us behind the scenes
in this stinking world of the machine
There is no worth in this two-dimensional world
Resurrect the unseen perspicacity and prescience that
was once the common currency
Of the most illiterate, boorish Saxon. 

?si=ExibreZa4EKL2f-p