Parading

They say time goes backward

waiting to be driven forth. I pound

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,