Ranch Poem- “Ambiguous Matter”


Ambiguous Matter

I am my own unknown
yet to be some classification
written in history.

Who knows what they’ll call me?
Manic Romantic.
Psychedelic Frontrunner.

And the World is an egg-
not actual but virtual.
And the Protestant work ethic
stirs up the moral cement.
And the checks and balances
aint checked or balanced.
And the revolutionaries of before
sit in their soiled bath water.

The future waits, but is unmade.
There are emails
and lattes
and space
and gospels



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