Parading

Hi! The creator too is blind,

singing to me from across the forbidden

There’s break, as in lucky, as in

let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything,

and hands uncurl because I don’t know

You ask the secret.

tell me how / to turn my head to listen,

And who has made hymns fit for the earth? for I am mad with devouring

what it leaves behind. I used to think

—just send me down forgiveness, send me down