Parading

For days the fireflies have been eating my darkness

Say goodnight to every part

and the closed bud shrugs off

I come before the rumor of fountains, to the

tell the clowned-out clouds and the rain,

What if the land had its own language?

The news would pour out of various devices

People don’t like to leave a party

I’ll be Easter bunnies

But other things change my mind: