A Woolgathering Exodus
The compass is stuck; direction destructs
Petty for want of maintaining a precedent
The canopy smirks at argument
A verdant recess worthy of still-life
Feet on new floors & the charms of an aleph
Genesis in the occident
Parenthesis of a continent
Allegiant to the idea there is only a right place
Eras inside themselves, unrepentantly effaced
I clutch my few, who stay with me like an aura
& tend the garden well, giving rime to the flora
The compass is stuck
The lamb is amok
The compass is stuck; directions destruct
