it is the barbarian who weeps
to the moon that it looks so lonely
whereas the city crashed into the hills
like a flame burning all around
contents itself with choking the night
into corners where sex can mix unseen
for as long as the shadows have no story
the light will always tell too much
it is the barbarian who wills
the animals into order on pastures
rather than lock them up into waiting
disaster like a cough or a bone too large
down one’s throat
it is the barbarian who knows
that silence raises its hands to peace
in the same way wheat suspends daylight
in a knowing cloth that comes only in the third
beer where the gold can flow until it flows
through you and back onto the earth
that sucks it up all the same
it is the barbarian who whispers
what is the point of determining the point
and collecting cash on other’s lack of it
when all there is is wind there
misplaced in their breathe
a nonthing becoming a thing
but forgetting nothing
so as to stack dead trees again
a hundred feet tall
one leaf by one leaf by one left
though all leaves
it is the barbarian who writes
without words for there has been enough
damage to the ear already
and the eyes are too precious to watch
death daily with an author gone and going
without their reasonable understood voice
fading into the conceived cry of time
that will never be fully comprehended again
it is the barbarian who wonders
if stars sleep and if not
how cruel it is always to be awake
shining
it is the barbarian who walks
to the city smiling gently
being wary to avoid stepping on the gardens made
with care and poise
and is told to get out get out
you pig
it is the barbarian who wishes
he had somewhere to go
besides to keep going
until gone
it is the barbarian who wild
and wet comes to the conclusion
during a rainstorm leaking his dirt into
the cracks scattered
as an attempt at poor bandaging
that he is the earth learning how to learn
about itself
it is the barbarian who wilts
under a grunt of hope for the continuation of this
even as the city spreads like a plastic cage
building statues and memorials to the nature
that was around before round
became defined as a boundary
instead of all
it is the barbarian who was unknown
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