Posted in Photography, Poetry

fringe of society


Museum of Fine Art, Boston

their tentacles
are woven
into my brain…
yours too?

how do i know?
i traced the lines
attached to the
train, i rode

into the city
to witness The Art
and the crude
reality

while free-falling
floating
on the fringe of society
and fog

there, i rested
outside of time
in the middle
of a civilization

to witness politicians
destined to eradicate
living species
with second-hand smoke.

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