we omit the axial tilt
we float on; act like
life is not oblique.

like what collapsed Nana
or how we met
turning a corner

was anything more
than entropy.
afternoons in a beam

are formed from
the same chaos
that causes fatal crashes.

nothing makes sense
all the time. my advice:
unbridle your mind.

put mayhem in your pocket.
want everything. devour.
we have no ruler to bow to.

be as observant as birds:
how they fly in dozens
and never collide.

Jonathan Focht is a poet and amateur musician. His poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Vallum, The Maine Review and HASH Journal. He lives in Montreal.