When it's breathlessly black
and as heavy as brie
it's a frog's jamboree
to forefoot leap with a sense of glee
from the front to the back
of the gymkhana clack.
A theosophist might suppose and wonder
why these theodolite creatures
danced vertically at a clap of thunder
why do they flop, meniscus between measures?
The gaps between sky and sea
the ebony clouds and the heavenly
Why do they majorette in a twirl?
And visibly seem in an awhirl
of this electrical conductor
are they feeling in step with the creator?
22/02/2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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