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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