512 hunter gatherer

 to be here not there

is a slow death not human

now more a machine

511 the way it is

underneath all things

an uncontrollable scream

of the constant change

510 A Song

 sleep is a small death

carried on the back of day

will this practice help

when it comes to our last day?

509 Hearts

We walked off our land

to make stone prisons our towns

where we ate our hearts