I’m hiding

in the back of my life, crouching

in a blurry transparence of passwords

and wrong places at the wrong times

- but freshly laid asphalt roads,

reworked from bottom up

to facilitate heavy military vehicles,

make road biking smooth, sweepy

and head windy

On the opposite side of Something

lies Nothing

I go where the compass points

I break out of the chains of irresistibility,

into the openness

of David Hinton’s DESERT,

generously allowed with empty spaces,

relief and white pages

sparsely ornate with distant words

and mountains; an eagle on the thermals,

but I remain an unidentified moment

in the void of eternity,

flowing in a sea of ancient breaths,

thirteen billion years old light tapping

on my consciousness,

patterns putting up resistance

in a denial travelled by Voyager I & II

Light shimmers on the ocean

The mountains wrinkle their crevasses,

and erode into sandy plains