Acid Trip, 1971, 21 x 29.5cms, ink on paper.

X. Acid Trip 1971

I lounged in my line drawing comforted by what the folds held and hold, and lullabied desire curled cool as petals.

But the thing I’d swallowed worked its relentless needle, tracing such a packed and sizzling language of sibilants and, within its busy galactic etching, there were imbrications of implication, each nesting the chevron Vs of flight, packing – recursive infinitude – packing them in, bending them, warping them, until Vs became all letters of the alphabet, all stellar bursts beyond omega, stretching springtimes of blossom, babbling brooks, polyglossic propulsion of primavera shoots so intricate, so profligate I knew I’d have to watch for millennia and never see the end of this bedazzlement.