Parading

I taught myself to make fireballs

we was going to try and save you but

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

Lo, and I have discovered

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

My ambition to be done with ambition

The purpose of poetry is to remind us

a gilded mote on blue velvet—

There were many winters but I closed my eyes

The regardless of stars, we gaze yet at them.