Monday, August 3, 2009

this "practice" is dying on the vine, but...

flying low over
ruined carcasses
of concrete, steel bones
protruding from a teeming green
flocks of birds alighting from
skyscrapers
i long to be on the loam-smelling floor of it
in amongst things greater and more immediate than myself
to be eaten
like what is left of us

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