A gun to your head changes the calculus,

so that railroad becomes whale road,
ghost becomes geography, coast
line, a tide, an anchor that floats.

So that you have to laugh at the blackbird
waiting for a get out of dodge flight.

Every plane will take you west
eventually. The sky will blind you to
all the insensate ways
of territory, trajectory, gall.

So that you let loose the net,
find a diamond at the bottom of the drain.





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