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"of doubtful or uncertain nature, open to various interpretations," 1520s, from Latin ambiguus "having double meaning, shifting, changeable, doubtful," an adjective derived from ambigere "to dispute about, contend, debate," literally "to wander, go about, go around," figuratively "hesitate, waver, be in doubt," from ambi- "about" (from PIE root *ambhi- "around") + agere "drive, lead, act" (from PIE root *ag- "to drive, draw out or forth, move"). The English word is first attested in Sir Thomas More (1528); related ambiguity dates to c. 1400. Related: Ambiguously; ambiguousness.

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ambiguity | Etymology of ambiguity by etymonline

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"uncertainty, doubt, indecision, hesitation," from Old French ambiguite and directly from... See origin and meaning of ambiguity.

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This Subtle Difference Between Empathy and Compassion is Life-Changing

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She - From "Unobscured Season 1" Soundtrack

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She - From "Unobscured Season 1" Soundtrack

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about

After "The Entombment" by Raphael

The night my father died, I sat on a stool
at the Buckhorn, gazing
out the window's cool counter seat.
Like a funhouse mirror, you appeared.
I have a familiar-looking face; my father used to say-
his wish for me to blend in.
Late after an argument, I fled
and was found bound to a prairie fence
after eighteen hours.
My body is like a sock in the wind
in a field just a mile from here.
My face blooms, velvety
and light like a lamb's ear,

frozen with blood; down
my neck, it goes. A medley of ants shuffles
away. My body is rich with the sour smell
of urine on my head like a crown of daffodils. stachys byzantina; my ears

Copyright © 2023 by Ruben Quesada. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 27, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.

One does such work as one will not,
And well each knows the right;
Though the white storm howls, or the sun is hot,
The black must serve the white.
And it's, oh, for the white man's softening flesh,
While the black man's muscles grow!
Well I know which grows the mightier,

O, rich young lord, thou ridest by
With looks of high disdain;
It chafes me not thy title high,
Thy blood of oldest strain.
The lady riding at thy side
Is but in name thy promised bride.
Ride on, young lord, ride on!

I'm in my room writing
speaking in myself
& I hear you
move down the hallway
to water your plants

I write truth on the page
I strike the word over & over
yet I worry you'll pour too much water on the plants
& the water will overflow onto the books
ruining them

If I can't speak out of myself
how can I tell you I don't care about the plants?
how can I tell you I don't care if the books get wet?

I have folded my sorrows into the mantle of summer night,
Assigning each brief storm its allotted space in time,
Quietly pursuing catastrophic histories buried in my eyes.
And yes, the world is not some unplayed Cosmic Game,
And the sun is still ninety-three million miles from me,
And in the imaginary forest, the shingled hippo becomes the gray unicorn.
No, my traffic is not with addled keepers of yesterday's disasters,
Seekers of manifest disembowelment on shafts of yesterday's pains.

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