To live in ignorance is exactly what

An ageless geography,
          this dizzying Sisyphus that defines
the tremor of knots & water, classification of a mile-hymned
          absence shorn of breath & bismuth. For its excess,

an abdication. A victory sizzling
          the compass glass,
the dinging, a beacon for what’s lost
          & hungered. There’s nothing

here to covet.
          Of what’s been asked
across the oscillating apse,
          which question is the one to strain?

All strung out in axes,
                              asp & aspen
both sense the same direction.