to discover an orientation

as a past
to consider,
sense must be made of a formless expanse
which on its best days
sprawls without care
for itself as a view

to discover an orientation,
gather
memories of tinglings
comb them in order
and plait together
a braid
of a feature
a discernible thing
a beauty
laurel-deserving

Satisfaction

I sit in
this label for what I do
like I am ten-years-old
and
I have just cleaned my room