Parading

I know we live slightly longer than a horse but not nearly as long as a crow

—there is leftover gunpowder in this line

blood to blood to blood, until we are carried

that they might enter the eternal

I send you John Coltrane,

We hunger for eloquence.

Let us, for tomorrow’s sake,

In this era of brevity in this era of metal in this

in summer I step outside

all the time it travels