Parading

this scene has a tune

the knives of my fingers tap

I have nothing to give, and make a poor servant,

And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?

not a fly or a mosquito, not a cricket or a bee, but the Luna moth

What if you felt the invisible

Listen

“road / to nowhere,” observing all the flowering trees

The only thing I want to say

One can’t / have it