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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