A Return to the Mined

On the field players stream and bundle
Like the larger ants clustering from row

For us the idea becomes the object
So gradients of will with gravity can muster

These queens have no glory, we
Sense to make and feed meaning

Un-watered hearts best with distance
Glorifying a codependent zero

Ones become guns, shot-wads
Chunks of collective flesh
Filling space between us
Still bridges, only composting.

Child with clay, quiet
She plays at the edges
Unknown simply, imaginary friends
Cantilever
Waiting to be asked in again

Space to fall upwards
Roots within
Let’s dance lest we begin.

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