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true north


"you can hear people's thoughts,"

 she said, studying

    my palm. 

 her eyes met mine.

"no surprise."


"your soul             split

 with the big bang;


   you are        dust 




"what is it that you write?"

 she traced a line

       deep and wide,


 beauty         in 






 the whole of shape unseen

    in a map of time and light.

 and there is a

      connecting line

   that pulls

 between crown and sky.


we look up in the chicago night.

is that the north star?

       i think.

"is that the north star?"

             you ask.  

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