What went before
What went between
What went around
What went above
What went contrived
What went controlled
What went inspired
What went
where?
What went before
What went between
What went around
What went above
What went contrived
What went controlled
What went inspired
What went
where?
What does it mean
that you wander through those hills,
hide between the rocks and burrow under roots?
What does it mean
that you listen to the birds,
head cocked in concentration for their words?
What does it mean
when your eyes turn to the peaks,
houses and humanity left behind your mind?
What does it mean
that spaces stretch to pain,
hubris becomes agony and no one is the same?
Is it better
to write one poem
each day
for 365 days,
or to spend
365 days
writing
one poem?