Even the question marks start to look
like contour lines—

how good are you with a compass
and map? Just when

can you call a place familiar?
Does your stomach also drop

when you step off
the trail and make your own alone

across faceless rocks?
Not in fear per se

more weightlessness
in walking away

from the final constraint
and either way

is that choice still immediate
or is it blunted by practice?

And did you follow the fall line
into the big green subconscious?

The mind wanders farther
than legs ever could

First entry into what is actually a fairly long-standing series AKA Poems that have been rejected by Rattle…