A Spent Thing is, um, Gutting the Small Land. The Spent Thing of Being Together Everybody Makes Is a Small, Old Land, Having to Be Zealous. In the Wood it Goes to Spend All Together, Cleric and Big Boss, His and Hers, Radical Root Vegetables to Politeness Apropos.
Where is the Celebration of Opposing, not to Live Again But to Give Being Together, Yelling Words? Where is the Celebration of Opposing, a Fortress of, um, Scribbles, a Detective of Walled Disagreement? Why is the Lording Over of Forward Thinking Back Together, and not Pieces of Slight Revulsion?
No Two Ways to Get out of this Thatched Roof Shed.
from Manifest Manifest, a poem and/or asemic translation of the Communist Manifesto (excerpt)
in Lemon Hound 3.0.4, June 2018
* * *
