Parading

AIAIAIAI cried

It was a beautiful day, though cold.

than if she had opened her mouth

you have no destiny, no, you have a

Say there is money but it rusted;

And I am shared out. I become these things:

O my America! my new-found-land,

So that not only did some kind of shutter flick open

To live at all is to grieve;

the soul speaks and the soul receives.