Thursday, February 21, 2013

I can't be more specific.

I feel a little vague,
as though my edges were a blur,
my speech a slur
that begins and ends
with white noise.

It's a funny kind of state,
being an open set, continuum,
divergent sum
that does not know
to be discrete.

I could lay down lines
just past blue, just short of green
and me in between,
but lines cut
off my extremities.

I'll stick, for now, with vague,
like a developing ideal,
unrealized, real,
and impossible
to explain.

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