A river’s slick rocks can trouble its rapids,
unravel the gravel that travels ravines,
slathering torques of riprap’s rippling forces.
The gritty mind, too, through slither and slack
keeps finding its course by sorting out torrents,
a slipstream of choices, picked from the groundwork,
when riven, all joists, it would pivot or fork.
Step away from what you’ve been kept by,
two-stepper. Each place is a tipping point;
the joy of music emerges from noise.
Bloom and corrupt. The self’s merely routines.
There’s no óne thing to which it could rivet.
Roving genomes go on looting each other,
hitching a ride. Everything’s symbionts—
hints edging elsewhere: a vast metabolism.
Now flecked, now freckled, dimpled, dreckful,
how nature loves to hide. It surges, a sorities
of little riots that rapture us, rimples and slides:
symbols suggesting the devious and gnomic
—the covariational—system of vectors
that caress and efface us, as the victor
today becomes tomorrow’s farceur. Simple
glotches in divots might flourish and yaw,
evolve as their changing estranges the forms
defining the laws that nourish their niches.
Runagates amok who reign by new glitches,
primal soup’s mockups still gutting it out, not
unlike the Great Red Spot on Jupiter, an island
of stability—a massive cloud-form on loop
with its storm winds for, what? Four hundred years?