October 2, 1972 (I was 27)
That man is the wizard of Sunol Canyon
He slips the edge of light
and dark
One magic chord on the
mandolin
one echoing strum
and his motion slows to non
existence
Reality becomes illusion
He looks like a tree
His music is in the leaves
The tale tells a land of
stumps
with dragons in the street
and burnt limbs on the
ground
His scarlet shadow sweeps
the canyon
and he sings Look around
look around
These are not the King’s
deer Look around
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