Parading

O! there are spirits of the air

raw, exposed, naive,

All / your horses

A cloud lives for ten minutes

The coming / apart, the giant laceration across the sky, we all feel it. Look

and each part of me is hung out to dry marooned

And the beloved

tentacles wielding guns, missiles

we was going to try and save you but

I will dabble in the vacation-hut industry.