My manifesto in a thousand cuts…
As told by topography’s hills & ruts.
Here on the side you will find my legend.
My distances more than I have reckoned.
Your compass will not work; you must use mine.
I’ve too much gravity & depth for straight lines.
My poles live on my equator…& stretch.
Despair & desire from north & south fetch.
There is a North Star here; so use your eyes.
Remove your blinders; my skies tell no lies.
L.B.Stowe 