Broken case, & we ask for a fix.
Set life, & we want this
framework society whole,
for we stay. I imagine the world
as a walk through a snow-covered dale.
(Alone, yet we are acutely surrounded.)
Taking animals, breath, & fodder
we imprint & claim. Where factions
of cogs, similarly, work thru the day,
toiling in a city’s heart for pay, and
edged on the fray. Life as an object,
an eye—seeing, as those
who place the charts remain.
We follow, set the calendar’s pace;
boxes crossed out, and the way we
plan our inevitable forays,
this, as the others, all the same.
Our mapping life, all right, the sight…
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
