7 Types of Ambiguity
by Michele Christle

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From the Ambiguities Yielding Nothing

The night is dark enough now.
It is high time, even between animals.
'Barking dogs' at the back of his mind.
If you go into the likeness of a forest
brightness falls from the sky;
portentous and uncontrollable.
Dust is generated from her,
she is telling him pleasantly
in the shade; reduced to gestures
'taking effect'.
Alone in the woods
the years of a man's life
seem swift. This third dark night
this man had probably tried
the living beauty of the lady.
To maintain a single mood
man turns against men.
He makes a cradle and rocks
the same words again and again.

An Example of the Second Type

The fire occurred at night.
Dark and misty. One passes,
feeling for a connection—
charmed at first.
In the sophisticated
tongues of many tribes
I have sometimes wondered.
It actually never makes a sound.
The meanings cannot all be
tongue or naming.
Tempting, unprofitable.
One glance of her eyes recovers him.
There is another connection:
tongues can over-read as well as eyes.
Virtue serves two uses—
follow it closely.
Lovers called back.
into the eyes of hope.
Painted or not painted;
all used.

An Example of the Third Type

Perhaps it is enough
to say that he was head of the family;
several sorts of men at once.
He must keep out the rain
and reconcile his tribe;
two different notions of love.
I am not sure that they titter.
The fear of death and the hope of glory,
the mistakes of others,
neither truth nor gold.
'The busy hum of men'
such a releasing and knotted duality.
Like the sea, pretending
to be ambiguous;
detached from all of them, sinking.
This movement, the dance.
This feeling, the night
(full of difficulties).
Insist on the destruction of the building;
how delicately you can escape.

An Ambiguity of the Fourth Type

At one time I had not yet discovered
the ambiguity of will.
This amounted to the silences,
intuitive and intellectual.
I bring you the sad and reserved gift.
The playful brutality of the request.
It is not merely the composition;
I have the whole sea to drown me.
A more dreary and more petty way.
The only advantage;
subterranean resonance;
the mind of man from the light.
Incompatible ways.
Let me cry thoroughly;
I shall have to shed sooner or later.
I remember them,
the last stages.
Never name her, child.
You have left me ill
and exhausted; thought of
as still dancing.

Wider Variety of the Fifth Type

She was out walking
in the snow, dangerous
and extravagant as this seems.
The question here is one of focus.
He was too helplessly excited.
One thing at a time.
You felt as you did.
A similar situation had been made;
something fundamental.
If you have forgotten,
here is a hint: it is eyes
whitening the tops of the waves.
Dark hair, tidal water,
landscape at dusk;
we can hardly see you.
You regard him
a case of fruitful disorder.
This is its final and most mellow
ripeness; opposite
consequences; unquestionable
animal satisfaction brings death.

Fair Example of the Sixth Type

He must be very wise;
he owns all the territory.
Wise means 'single-minded'.
He was crying into the handkerchief;
listening to a mind
withdrawn upon itself;
a mind trained by dividing.
This face is all wrong.
She was herself in a state.
She tries to get away from him;
isolation like that of the stars.
Evasiveness is a confession of weakness;
it is the same doubt.
Allow me to be consistent:
the doubt reminds us
they are both then similar.
He is still a king.

An Ambiguity of the Seventh Type

"Do not achieve death,
or you can no longer live
in its shadow." She sings the song
I have quoted. One is tempted
to look around. The king replies,
as from the throne,
"Ugly hell gape not!
I am indeed a king."
He must speak
to the messengers,
to a crowd. The town
could not plausibly claim
to be braver. He is speaking
with pathetic simplicity;
constancy to a mistress,
loyalty to a political party.
He was once a baby,
a parasite and an animal.
It is too late for him
to retreat. Make him insist on it.
A horse is restless
because it has been resting.
It is he who is walking now.
Weep for him, for because
he has wept. A handkerchief
for sorrow; from the sea,
always the sea. One cannot alter
the length of a night.
Alas, what have I stolen from you?
The sounds you are afraid of
and are listening for.