Parading

like a horse held in the palm of a rock,

untransfigured even by hope. Understand I was the one

And thus, without a Wing

“these had transmuted

It is true I am as twisted as the cactus

Some kind of extra firmament,

Flesh of the sky, child of the sky, the mind

stars you’ll never get counted,

The spin of it continuous as in looking down

Yellow is hurried,