"I" wants such little
--Distance to lay waste
To "me" again and touch--
The bodies I am not
The bodies I have been
--And those a mind
Has sacrificied like--
Soldiers we will never see
The guns of those
--Who'll never understand
My "self" but the desert--
Goes on in *strength*
And thus a politicking
--A policing and this "a"...
Not breaking its trances--
Not for *me* or for *I*
A greener world waits
--For no one but for here
So polluted by the voices--
Unraised by cash money
A simple tomb goes thru
--All the words of prosody
Green and yet fulfilled--
When they are spoken
A mile's nothing except
--Immeasurable 'stead of us
Negative experience suffices--
For worlds never been
Black ice or white lists
--Who go enlisted and site
Destiny like a voice--
Authority gains in aether
The little ones go and give
--Their lives away like big ones
The big ones go among them--
Susceptible to Democracy.
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