it's one of those nights as a puzzle -
it has stopped raining and
the leftovers - the puddles -
         for no apparent reason you just
have to step in each one of them...
you're not exactly wearing
   christian louboutin...
          just a pair of dkny sneakers...
and yes... they do have a red finish
on the soles -
it's all this jazz that i can't get out
of my head -
a new bookmark for a seemingly
never-ending day...
hank jones - red mitchel: duo...
         there's that and: if only writing
was like playing a piano -
again and again: the never dying
*** note over and over again...
either i'm crazy about the jazz
or just the moon...
after all the rain the sky decided to
move the clouds... open up to just
barely make out a twinkle of a star
or two...
but it's still "foggy" up there among
the orbs...
in between not dodging puddles
the shy look up...
at the moon... when passing a tree...
fascinating...
looking up at the moon
from beneath and between the branches...
branches without that full
cranium crop of leaves -
bare riddle masters -
                          there and then...
perhaps the moon pristine on
a mountain-top or somewhere else...
but just beneath a tree -
through the branches...
      what can that be called -
but the most basic joy -
     it's hardly a whoopie moment
to say or shout anything...
           it's just there for the taking...
akin to the joy when the wind
is blowing real hard... and it's blowing
in the direction you're walking...
giving you ease and a booster...
life at these junctions is hardly
complicated...
but it's also a demical increment in
what's allowed to be real...
            if the sky isn't falling...
then... these rare moments of clarity
are hardly a cushion to lay
your head on...
        life with all its tabloid transit
and: the together impetus -
                         for a while...
a very brief moment...
               a life without expectations
and a life without... worship.