Working on finding poetry in places other than my brain…
ie article about digital vs analogue or the death of the C.D. I didn’t read it too closely I was too much like NaPo obsessed.
we circle ourselves, cut corners
wasting refuge, barbed wire and gardens
gold pore in the soil, digging deep
finer physical flesh and stone
rough and rampant generation
quick peril that was chunky, malleable
if it’s apocalyptic, it smells ominous and dank
space shuttled, hurtled
as the gilded land unraveled.