among the society of cartographers: day 3

you see. the horizon curves away & with it you dropping now but at last
the trim & fell; we in this balloon measure the weather together.

it is akin to trajectory, the heart's parabolic &lurch in the close
dense topography of veins routing through possibility, for the myths of

future one scans in the steady--inscrutable: for every posited
adjective of the land there is a mine. that which one finds between

integers, in the lull of the visible spectrum. but this is not the lesson
of arc: rather: of space singing, jewelled geometry of irrigation canal

& highway, trust of measure. & when we crawl the land together there
even in blind&embrace that knowledge of spheres, the volumes we fill.