Parading

The past, the future, dwelling there,

and the minor roadside flowers

field grass and bulrush. I have included

Since then – ’tis Centuries – and yet

neither lost nor home, no longer

It is delicious among the constellations,

but didn’t break stride; that’s how

Make a law that loves the one who breaks it.

he recited poems as he tried turning into a bird

I’m martyr to a motion not my own;