Psalm
--Jeff Hardin 

   
I can't keep track
of existence.
One day it's a cuckoo,
the next day moldy bread. 

Someone reading Dickinson
looks up,
takes a sip,
lives again in Circumference. 

Nero, I grant permission
to burn down
my neighborhood,
its yacking nightingales. 

Someone steals past
with a psalm in his heart,
its grit so certain
jackals back away.

[via verse daily]