Parading

So far the days keep coming.

a spectacle of light you cannot fathom

window onto the hidden place and the other time

I made a pinhole camera to demonstrate proportion,

Pin your ear to the wisdom post

Is all that we see or seem

Pulled down from their branches, the hours

sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and

Who wouldn’t immanentize the eschaton, if they could,

During nights of big moons try walking as slow as a skunk.