| This poem arose from actual walks and cross-country skiing in the Adirondack mountains. What is it to make a mark, whether with boots, skis, snowshoes, a pen, a hoof; what is it to write, to step, to remember or forget to note where you are? The poem vibrates somewhere between self-forgetfulness and self-assertion, between erasure and rescue. Here and elsewhere in my work the poem follows tracks and lines others have laid down—paths others, not necessarily human, have also made and walked. | 
