Parading

My story—hieroglyphics of scuff and blister.

You want what runs out through a low visibility.

My god, / in the dark his eyes burned so clear

something / Large and old awoke. And then our singing

I / am beneath that water.

We are like a field … of wild flowers … unpollinated … swaying

O, my scouring eye

I plant three seeds / As a spell. One

The earth is a beautiful place.

We’ll have to hurry. If we want to get started