On NORML, HEMP legalization tour

Waiting, waiting & gathering what is bubbled up from the crevices of surface reality, which we find is rarely other than that. This is my locomotion into the dark mundane, as critical understanding of what I had gone thru was nil, yielding to observation only--that being only potentiality of what could be adduced. Like a monk, I sought solitarian being & no-struggle towards what was social distraction, & silence. The bus, like a cavalcade of the known, took to the utterly bland fields of Ohio as if a hostile voice streamed towards its goal--my presence of mind, making up an ill-considered cosmic tourist of me. I had taken along Luis Borges' Labyrinths calculating its Cabbalistic intensions, like a deep-aside to an ascetic report. My dissipation was ominous and unyielding i.e. we were on a "hemp" tour, and what came of my academician quality looking at that book for hours at a time, only makes sense today (the soft machine becomes part & parcel of a greater organism). Words, plains of pavement, empty train tracks following the highway, novocain mind drivel - all left me seeing each word on the one chapter page, The Circular Ruins, with having a green shadow cast upon its black print. A truth from an ancient time seemed the order of those few moments, like the first literate beings conceptualizing waywardness would have been looking into plants on the ground, the world around colluding just enough to make them wonder what comes ephemerally from beyond...