Our Drift

Phantoms do not organize
As kingdoms or republics.
We do not require a state.

Nor do we mimic fungi,
Or slime molds, or murmuring
Stands of interlocking trees.

We’re not planned like circuit boards
Or microchip schematics.
We don’t bloom under lenses.

Close up, we’re a blurry mess.
Step back, and there’s a pattern,
But it’s not our own. It seems

To be something or someone
Other than us, some landscape
Or portrait as seen through us.