as a crab
wishes to be
stepping sideways
into the future
never to focus
on anything
no temptation
to look down
at your feet
that take turns
your field of vision
like a shoe

instead you look up at the skies, waiting
for “cloud-based learning” to “occur”

in imagination, which is
nowhere in particular
algae inhabiting the crest of a wave
ask Where have we come from,
where are we going

there's a vanishing
point at which
all sense of place
though collectible
as a Victorian
postage stamp
this hidden earth
tectonic pressure
like a graph
a steady rise
with shallow troughs
playing house rules
uneven building allowed

then the heavens say, Fire! and water comes down
filling the trough where horses used to drink


View this poem on The Disappearing »