Poem: Deer by the road and Why this is a fractal poem

Deer by the road

Gradation of syrup
Dark amber like the day we met
Golden gratitude / singular / sweet
Beginnings / walks by the river
Closed today / sudden turns in the path
Footsteps to the wall
Tapping deep / birthing sequence
Good-bye fear / the old coat-of-arms
If that is how you see, live it
Stoke it / sleepy conversation
We come home to a bright kitchen
Housemates dressing the deer
Blood on the floor / mountains in moonlight
Gradations of gratitude
Animal or spirit / working over time
Kiss the earth / sleep well / leap
Dream well / deer by the road
.................
This is a fractal poem: Quoting from my description of a fractal poetic (from my Nov 15 post): "A fractal poem is a complex fractal metaphor with fractal edges", useful for "processing a fractal (broken) world" in which there are "realities that impinge upon my psychic space, realities that I cannot avoid", but rather "choose to explore". . . . "When I can manage to do it, i match the fractal edges of these broken or incomplete realities with the fractal edges of my poems."
Writing about the brokenness of the world by writing an intentionally broken (or fractal) poem is a way of reflecting the world's brokenness back to itself, as a way of saying, I see you, I've got you. It's like making a piece of art out of bits and pieces of larger bits and pieces, a collage without a frame, a collage with uneven or irregular edges. . . But with fractals, the edges are predictable in their irregularity suggesting that wholeness of vision is possible, but not if you are being honest and true to the limitations of your powers of perception!
I would like to suggest that there are very good, maybe even great poems that are the opposite of fractal. They are self-contained whole metaphors, that include everything that is needed to convey a more or less complete point of view or narrative around a given subject. But poems do not have to tell stories. They often do, and that doesn't mean that they are better or worse than another kind of poem, but the fact is, reality is not a bundle of narratives, it is a mystery. The deeper you dive, the deeper it goes, the further you reach out, the further from your mooring it entices you. If you want to spin narratives, i.e., make a narrative out of your experience of, say, a dragonfly, that's terrific. We can all benefit from your unique take on the dragonfly. By all means give us that story. But, to experience the reality of a dragonfly is actually a quantum undertaking.
The dragonfly is an infinite enigma. All you can do is describe how you experience it, - praise it, wonder about it, but don't freeze-frame it. Don't try to hold it with language or metaphor but respect its autonomy and how it is one with its environment and one with its uncanny energy that almost crackles around it, even when it is perched on a twig. If we can learn to see this way, then we are dis-identifying from the tendency of our overdeveloped brain to capture, contain or control our experience of the universe. That is to cultivate a fractal awareness.

I would like to add one more thought. I don't think that the universe is, in the final analysis, fractal, but, what is happening on our watch is, what we thought it was, it isn't. That vision of a whole universe is unraveling. That by itself is a scary notion, but not if we dive into that perspective with empathy and faith in the capacity of our intelligence to lead the way. For me, fractal perception is a joy and often ecstatic. Experiences coalesce, interweave and enhance, extend and renew each other. The so-called edges of fractal reality are themselves fractals. Once we accept the brokenness of ourselves and the universe, we come around to realizing that somewhere, off the screen of experience, somewhere out of time and space as we know it, it is all, in fact, one seamless reality.