Jul 09, 2007 11:11
Filling on the beetle's spindly legs, at last there is light in the empty spaces
a simple joy, with the usual reason; but weather won't sully my joy in the steel gray; the pulse of lights, one foot back, slip forward, twist, untwist, skip, step back, twist untwist, a charleston on the sidewalk
unreal, fractious, just fake ...
joy sees no reason