WORK MAN SHIP
Chaelee Dalton
WORK
bits become rows become arrays become our honeyed grave embedded in our lack of ability to recall nature gave us everything but music and the water we've made of our bodies |
MAN
your reality all details of muse a city too close to both green and gold a two-faced die rolling over not this quiet cemetery but the chance of reaching heaven and our longing to touch each other like this |
SHIP
removed and moved by the sun a revolution today mourning and this evening six feet under this land six miles above the sea floor we scrape at sacred sky |