The ache, the depth, motion and all things 
            that change, am I
Being too broad here, the horizon 
            and the myth
Of infinite regression, of gravity (which was once
            called music)
And passion, like flowers in an electro-

            magnetic field
Which ripple out & spark, the grand illusions
            and the tiny
Ones alike, the indifference of strangers
            to the flight
Of birds, can you hear me now, do you want me
            to be more specific

About outer space, the quantum particles
            that swerve
Along the vertex, where two bodies (heavenly
            or otherwise)
Intersect, the minor tasks and major 
            efforts that lend life
A narrative, a geometric center, the appalling

            beauty of the abstract, 
Can you hear me, should I trace from X to Y
            a downward
Slope, the ache & depth, can I parse the grammar 
            of agony, the wheel
And pulley, the wedge, all our inventions: maps,
            poetry, drones.