Go! Tell it On the Mountains


lest we orbit

Weyekin's bode

amidst the fire

of our obsessions,


recherche ciphers

within wet ashes,

charcoal forests'

collateral toll,


rows of Cedars'

sons and daughters


on clear-cut mountain's

point of view

die against arbitrage

of paper plates...


still        we        prey ...


This poem is about: 
Our world


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