Flat Earth Hermitage

It has been more than a year now
of adventures in solitude.
Fifteen months? And on? And what months to go?
And go?

Let us be resigned, however.
Ours is only a bit part
in the long politics of disease.

Still, in my security
I don’t have to step out of the house,
don’t even have to look out the window,
when sometimes it seems I have walked off
the edge of Earth.

But when I turn round to check
the geography of dark space
I am cheered by the sight of Earth
in the trail of stardust
behind me.

I’d have to look out the window
to see the path in front of me.
I re-dream an old LP on the turntable—
Bach’s Violin Partitas and Sonatas—

the geography of an enlightened
cosmos I have almost escaped into:
a moon-calm trail,
sane to every sense with which

we learn to probe the quantum wholeness
of unsanity.

Richard Fenton Sederstrom was raised and lives in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona and the North Woods of Minnesota. Sederstrom is the author of seven books of poetry, his newest book, Icarus Rising, Misadventures in Ascension, published by Jackpine Writers' Bloc, was released last winter. Read other articles by Richard Fenton.