we are spirits we dance
contort our shapes
like trees
in the wind blowin'
only with much less
by way of beauty
or dignity
than those trees,
we are spirits
we dance out of tune
and dance possessed
excommunicated
to lands configured
by the psychic blind
in bursting vistas,
of the dangers
stacking up
for future days of
treasure gone bust
we know little
more than squat jacks
- from London Works
