1.

Say, a man. The man is a wrangler, restraining a horse by the muzzle with rope. The horse writhes, tosses, thrashes his broad body away and away. The wrangler bends, pulls his weight into balance against the brute. The horse kicks and twists; the rope holds. See, the opponents have desires at either end of a spectrum: to be free, to detain. The man and the horse, feet apart, could not be farther from each other. The man has made a life of conquering. What does the horse know of control?

2.

The wild earth bucks what’s living, wanting us off. In the desert, a tornado shreds a rift through sunset-touched clouds. The colors drift in waves and contours around the tear. Faced with chaos, they organize. Least dark to most. To order: on the spectrum of desires, where does it fall? The sand still hums its gold.