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The Erotic Life of Property

A truck delivers a forest back to itself
As lumber in the field where it once
Stood as trees—what is not lumber
Listens close, breathes witness into
The absence of what’s to become
Of what once was there, closing
The spaces between old shadows
Resolved into new forms, a single
Surface: Walls risen from one chaos
Stand alone against another chaos—
Who dares to breathe listens, or goes
Mad against the grain—tilled under,
Folded back against itself—a darkness
In the heart breaks its lost ground.