Thursday, March 3, 2011

mushroom circle

we live in plastic

fearful of water and weathering the heat of

isolation or a/c suffocation


this occupied land

these are my colonialist’s words trying to form

my oppressed mind into some free illusion

but I live on time

borrowed from death

owing the air to everyone I sold

a single breath in debt I’m

surrounded by thieves sleeping

in fallen leaves underneath

the dead trees I dream of

burning cities back to fertile ashes

inoculating clouds of spores

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