Sunday, October 25, 2015

al-'umm al-jāfiya

If it weren't for the beasts we 
Compose as scholarship, we 
Would all live like professors
Pretending not to be beasts

In strange poses, indisposed
By our disposable world.
Laud the old and durable
Over the throw-away wraps

Piling up in the landfills,
But it's all disposable:
Everything to be disposed
To the act of becoming

Other things. Composition
Equals decomposition,
And what we hate about trash
Is its tendency to last

When we so longed to dispose
Of it. Mountainous middens
Arise from life's dreams of life,
Trucks of waste per gram of self.

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