Between thought and action
and before we decide
there’s too much information
some truthful, some lies
and if we pick the wrong direction
choose a false destination,
don’t be surprised.
Moment tends to moment
from the moment we met
each stage like the edge
of the Madelbrot Set,
infinitely extendable
each word a small bet
each kiss some collateral
and each touch a bet.
The way may well lead
onto friendship, at best
and though the way seems clear enough,
each step is a test.
The path has potential
to spiral off at our feet
into infinite possibilities
and concentric repeats.
We’ll find ourselves somewhere
lost between stations:
world’s full of these slippery
chaotic equations
and I’ll not force the route
down which we might go
-in the Mandelbrot Set
you just never know.


15/7/98, Leicester.

Note: I’d pretty much forgotten about this poem but found it recently when clearing stuff out of my sister’s garage in Bath.

This is about as rock’n’roll as my life gets these days.

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