020814 wild magic


When snow falls hard in the heart of darkness
we have the option, for a time, to forget
about all the pavement lying underneath, and
the wild magic of this ex-urban landscape
seems, for a spell, impenetrably deep

until the melt, water theft and toxic flood, when
the ill taste of development pattern-induced drought
and death unrests itself on my tongue.  Still fermentation
turns every civi back to the dirt from where it comes

including institution and machinery, in a process
i feel as necessary to the end, and anything but sweet
toward a life worth living and dying free

temporary, and complete. Choose wisely.  Savage
clockwork consumes our laboring captivity, if we

decide to stay this way, the same fate to our progeny.


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