Parading

The breath of our lives, passing from this one to that one,

the whole thing through

What a mess is everything

the bedside / light casting shadows like bison running at full

My thinking slides on the wake of the cricket’s sweet

stigmas on the body of air

But such figments, especially when immersed in paradox,

The past tense is so severe,

It was more of a nuisance

at all times