Back pages – Brown Notebook (d) Early June 1967

There are some things not spoken about,

and others
that are spoken about without being things ...

That caravan parked behind the house

- when I arrive the sun shines just above it

and I see it shine

and I stay for a while watching it

(narrowed eyes)

and I know there's someone (on the) inside,

who I still don't know

                              :

the caravan

as a metaphor for myself

in these spring days

as my Olivetti takes up

some old rhythms

- yes, I'm thinking in terms of rhythm, too, these days-

and at the same time

it accompanies with a corn-spike-green torrent

from which joy and reaction keep rising,

the complicity of a band

that is myself before and myself now

If we talk about it,

or better yet play it together,

perhaps,

what I still don't know

could join us any afternoon now,

in the basement

Who is it that inhabits that "metaphorical caravan"?  

                               ( psychedelic pillows:

                                     why should surrealism be

                                            the patrimony of a single side? )

Talk to me, Nar!

- the guys told me you have this name,

sort of Shakespearean jester style ...

… Now I wonder how might your voice sound like .