Thin Streams Braiding Desert Canyons

It is, after all, so weird to be
Bodies moving through your world
You know to be, simultaneously,
So incomprehensibly vaster
And incomprehensibly tinier
Than the narrow middle view
Through which you, as bodies
With flickering awareness, move.

But mostly you’re not much
Caught up in the greater worlds
Extending around and down
Within you—you’re focused
On who is who is doing what
To who with whom, since that’s how
Your ancestors did and procreated
And kept falling through long enough
So there’s this tumbling, complex
You, channeled, all to do with you.