Some evenings just before
Sunset you see thousands
Of birds, black dots against
Sky, raving around each other,

Draw a line in blood,
Or smoke, or hope,
You won’t be able to
Map it all the way.

Somewhere in black dark
We know we originate,
A whisper in our bodies,
The story of intersecting lines.

Night on the spine of
Highway, cone-glow
Headlights stretching
Into nowhere–

Hitch-hiking off the
shoulder of consciousness,
Swarming, songs stranded,
Indecipherable lines in chaos,

Push the pedal down,
Lean into the speed of
Embracing blank space,
Inhaling cold air.

Push the pedal,
Flip down the lights,
Fly by dust, swirled
In starlight,

Push the pedal