orient

it’s okay to waver

don’t divert your attention

alight on your desire and walk in that direction

as simple as a child

at cross purposes with myself

desire is a collapsible tent

a parachute to play beneath

a lark on the ground

– – –

no words can clear the treeline

i’m a still image

tessellating towards the horizon

running from my chiron

a sun flower numbered in jumps

geometric one, one, two

a mandala in sand

a picture of me and you

a subtle opening

in the trees

a lesser density

of leaves

a dappled path

a reprieve

an open step

a lighter breath

i know there are strange attractors

there must be singularities

i am stretched across time and space

toward something i cannot see or hear or taste

– – – – – – –

the stars can orient us

but don’t tell us where to go

the whales know their place in the ocean

the birds know their place in the skies

but knowing where to swim

and knowing where to fly

comes from within, beyond, before

they find no question in it

why should we?