Yes/No/Maybe
I am interested
in the entanglements,
the implied next steps,
the adjacencies.
One step left or right
into the brambles
and multiflora rose
and the browse.
That is where
the mess flourishes
and the meaning scratches
and implodes.
I need this finger hold,
and that toe hold
to climb the rock face,
upstanding and upheld.
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Always
its adjacencies
noticing
small trajectories
hearing
blue notes
ghost notes
lost notes
wanderings
the gaps
of possibilities
maybe the yes
is a lost no hidden
beneath stone,
our fingers
share the weight
of lifting
the unknown
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I am
a
pileated
woodpecker
in arc
and fall,
Arc and fall,
from wood’s verge
to wood’s verge.
I own the air.