Out in that field and you’re not 
Even tired of your laboring yet
Under it the sun there is no
Food or suffering there we didn’t 
Seem to make and no longer
Telic did we create the many
Mores no one would touch 
The wastes the arable earth
They had to create a thousand 
Myths to keep us in place
To make a fence around our 
Crumbling sensate light.
Of that land grab and when we 
Were stranded by property
Men were enlisted go site which 
Cataclysm the abandoned earth 
Nature could not even dream-up 
The dreams of those giants 
The plans of those last men.
An instinctual notion of existence
This is where particulars come in 
Ask yourself whether language
Will ever be complete all the words
For snow words for feelings we 
Haven’t considered metaphor of 
The buildings we are bound 
To the structure of these things.
 
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