The Parade


The cosmos swirls

And the One opens

To show me the others

Who have gone before.

Many never recognized

As worthy aspirants

As the blind cannot see who it is

They attempt to label

And one by one

I watch

As they

Fall from the sky

Skid into the turn

Drive off the cliff

Place hot pokers into their eyes

Their ears


Accept breaths of praise

That inflate their heads

Until distorted

And then


And my own breath draws in sharply

And my heart becomes icy

And I whisper, “Please, not me.”

The great

The misguided

The delusional

All miss this tiny door

They grope in pain

In false pleasures

Until they are gone.

And I wonder

If I also harbor

This blind spot and worry

How I may light it?


Another poet

Will one day lament the same

Of me.