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This poem is taken from PN Review 112, Volume 23 Number 2, November - December 1996.

Four Poems Howard Osborn


>Walking along the road
You become aware
That going nowhere is a tiring act.
Alternatives are vexed:
To leave the main path
And wander off into uncharted ground
Seems aimless, too. But there
You might find something
That finally makes nonsense of it all.
That or else end up lost
With neither compass
Nor map to assist. The signposts are blank
Fingers pointing wildly.
Brushing the wood clean
You sense faded letters which read either

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