Parading

fermented into green books of music, loud country music,

He supposed that if you thought hard enough

could teach the shadows

the impossibile replication of weight

It is poor comfort that the mind comes, saying:

staring me down, serene and pitiless

The loud will take care of itself, and everyone will be able to say

There’s no law that says

real and imaginary (imaginary time must be

until the cloud is pulled back