INDSIDE OUT
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket
full of wry humor. Your points of
view make me tremendous laughter.
My daughter is the offspring of La
Luna. (In those most telling ways).
-
The fog is now lifting? Already. It
seems so quickly that things can
turn - as long in season as any old
cabin that leans along this river. One
day the world is quiet, and the next
day all things are blown sky-high.
-
You learn that after a while.
Let's go back to that wry humor:
The yellow pickup which drives the
roadway here seems lit, in this foggy
light, from another world; a beam,
unfurled, a gracious energy. But the
guy inside, driving, is so big he
should really be in the pick-up's
bed instead.
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