BITE THE HAND
THAT FEEDS YOU
Go ahead. You can. But it will
get you nothing. Like looking that
gift horse in the mouth - all you're
going to see is what was already
there. There's always a moment in
the celestial bakery where someone
is making Manna; from Heaven,
is that? Or is it just fodder to help
us pass the time; heave the moment;
learn the rhyme? We make our
division easy now - no more
deep solutions, no more fractured
sums. Everything has to be simple
now. Used to be the time when
the deepest thing I knew was Nature;
now that too is finished; our own
fury and our own fervor have ruined
even that. For dollars. For pale men
riding. For a fistful of fast-grow
dirt from a vast store where there
used to be woods.
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