Sliding between stones and tall trees,
an oily machine is sputtering images.

I call these gaps or openings in the
landscape of our thoughts 'rifts',
because they are like fault lines in
a seemingly continuous surface

In a pharmakon of churned-up mud,
one path Closed,
but remains open;
another path curves back, to where
it began.


I call these: D. Chakrabarty, "The Anthropocene and the Convergence of Histories." In, C. Hamilton, eds.,
The Anthropocene and the Global Environmental Crisis. London, 2015.