circular time

teleology, our species' favorite fantasy (2023)

When I go east, the Sangres.
When I go west, the Jemez.
When I go south, the Sandias.
You, little grub,
smushed and drooling upon me.
We walk in circles
in circles in circles.

People tell stories
with beginnings and endings  
of journeys with destinations
of mountains to climb—
the illusion of teleology,
our species’ favorite fantasy.
But one step back and
it’s circles, circles, circles.

The wise ones
live within that circle,
call it home.
—wherever you go, there you are
—the present is the present
Yeah yeah
I’m not there yet.

The best I can do is notice
the chunks of quartz
amid the tawny dust
the movement of clouds
across the oracular sky
the birds in the trees
& bunnies in the bushes
how your face grows
and changes every day.

And in the afternoons 
I strap you to my chest
and we walk
in circles, circles, circles.
When we go east, the Sangres.
When we go west, the Jemez.
When we go south, the Sandias. 

Poems at the tit #5 (2023)

Image by author; Santa Fe, NM