Down the Tracks
There is no critical mass for ambiguity.
At this time, we are a little aside of ourselves
so we must constantly check our watches,
pause whatever we are doing in order to catch up.
Ambiguous margins have shifted
and that which was once out of sight
is now almost here, we see it
either as a rushing loco of craziness
rolling down mind-tracks,
or as a sublimity of yet more obscure forms.
This inexplicable need
to scribble off-kilter poetry on the clear-eyed air.
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