Parading

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;

pursued in turn as they reached the precipice

As when a set mind, blessed by doubt,

turning to me, sad and beautiful

everything’s negotiable

rich with intensifiers, and adverbs fell