Parading

The heart’s a deep well.

How did I end up here? What wind blew me

I wanted a poem to come out of my sadness,

Who cares if we lose a harp or flute?

Let us consume in fire unfed like yours

Therefore farewell; go trouble younger hearts

If you knew the price

Or riding for the feeling, riding for the feeling

That dog won’t hunt

Night philosophy becomes theology: