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.