you stand there
like Leonardo’s man
center of all
surrounded by
perfect Aristotelian
spheres of control
reaching out
from Self
to Heaven
and in these realms
you have arrayed
the spectra of the world
expertly arranged
perfectly codified
to the most trifling degree
from Those Held Dear
to the Alien Other
from Loved
to Hated
from Defended
to Attacked
but where
is the line
the demarcation
the boundary
between what realms
do you divide
the Worthy
from Undeserving
and why
for there is no line
that separates us
save the one
you draw
Unraveling Time
Desert Wind
Ploughman's Son
Ploughman King
The Year the Cloud Fell
The Spirit of Thunder
Shadow of the Storm
The Cry of the Wind
Beneath a Wounded Sky
Cryptogenesis: A Memoir
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 