Everything we pretend to possess
Will be taken from us the land
What is left of the land
Three feet above sea level
In an other’s democracy who
Are "we" fooling
There will no mythology
Except in what we allow
To melt except in what blood
Will be shed pastoralist
Blood soil of whose science fiction
Whose practice let this occur
Lays waste to charitas good deeds
Need of mountains commoner trees
For neighbors not to take up arms
And posit myths of origins
A stressed imaginary reduces
Eschaton of this big lapse of judgment
Grand mal of theory who will be judged
Insufficiently civilized barbarity
Is on the right side of history
When every one is wrong
Who do not interrupt (it) soon enough
Slavery in a storm of progress
No name in history enough
Frightened finally by ‘hybridity’
Necessity, not contingency, pounds
The shores of us
No boundaries but a disaster
Which universalizes makes differences
Also more stark
The little ones less
Developed simplified by disaster
Reduced to their breath bigger than
The lungs
Like Kafka’s mouse singer.
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