For a commons
Not a symptom
Of this world
Another world
Cut down
There has never
Been a commons
Really
Except in our breath
Now propertied
Priced-out
The right to leave
Cross these borders
In the air
In the flesh
Not here
Anymore
Or avant garde
What was missing
From their
Art
Might put
A kind of
Frame around it
A hole in me
My neighbor
Moving me
To not evaluate
To equate what
Not equates
But doesn’t know
Sculpture abstracted
From harm
What won’t be
Missed what
We haven’t been yet
Free people
In the breath
Where the horns blow
Or rap
The right to dig
What was our right
To not be a people
Wholly conditioned
By generality.
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