The strumming reaches the ceiling and out
The open window,
Till far from its guitar, files in with the dusk,
Whose thoughts are gold-red and blue-gold
And gold-pink.
The UFO is a treasure map.
How an angel, in the city,
Sitting on a power line, marks the spot.
Till the cosmos tickles on the tongue
And expands between the ears.
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naïve haircuts 
Very nice!
“Till the cosmos tickles on the tongue
And expands between the ears.”
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THis is really beautiful. Those opening 5 lines are gorgeous and I love the ending too.
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love the specific colors of the thoughts and that angel on the power lines —
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Great job.
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