hard here and now.
solid as a railway sleeper, hard and thick
you can drive a knife right into it,
if you’re a physicist
go cut off a slither, or pull on a splinter
that has somehow lodged deep in a finger,
burrowed under skin
and gone to rest.
inviting as a new idea, lit and beckoning
lacking any sense on closer reckoning.
always just coming or having just gone
you can’t pin it down, it lacks all reason,
travelling with you like a second,
third, or fourth, skin, and the rest.
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