The Corrosion of Love. Dieser Artikel ist nicht verfügbar.The Corrosion of Love

I'm not sure why a little bug should deign to say anything else at all. He is after all about 26,000 light years from the center of the galaxy and the supermassive black hole lurking there. But maybe when you think of it, that particular black hole (Sagittarius A*) could use a little amateur poetry to lighten its load. And little bugs, eminently squashable though they are, are also nothing short of a minor miracle. They dance, they sing, they dream, they love. There is a glint in their eyes that is precious, if brief, or maybe it is not brief at all. Time, has more twists and turns and knots than even a praying mantis can poke a stick at. I wouldn't at all be surprised to find it is just a finger tracing the curve of a girl's neck, while the girl in question juggles innumerable possible worlds in her innumerable probable hands. Clearly I am no one to judge. Clearly these verses are so slight as to have been better left in scribbled state and recycled directly. But my self-indulgence knows no bounds, and just in case Sagittarius A* might have a more subtle use for these maladroit malapropisms, I will -fool that I am- go ahead and share them.