The local is inside you, sang Pete Seeger, Bob Creeley  
when I tossed my head and rode 
one foot, pawing the ground before a gallop.  
As for my consultant, he shook  
the bed, broke a baby toe, stubbing it  
Like nowhere else in one place, 
A luscious, noiseless bonding in the very era or epoch of the perpetually alterable 
— a stream of gasses embossing / conjoining an invisible roll call gathering around
so much as ‘the way things were’ stay the same that day.