SAILING NORTH & SOUTH (at the same time)

In these swamps of blank despair,
of teeth and fangs and gripping claws,
decaying flesh and rotting turd,
some talk of north and south is heard,
with learned (and poetic) diction,
a pretty blend of fact and fiction.

But where is what and how to start
is not a matter for poetic art.

In a swamp, north looks much like south;
either may lead to a crocodile’s mouth.

So if the gnomon doesn’t work in cloud
accept the compass and don’t act proud.

.

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