UNCIVILISATION: The Dark Mountain Network

A space for conversations in a time of global disruption

THE GREEN WORD

grows inside me, it wants to kick me out of the nest
it is a cuckoo, calling its name

& a nightingale, it says
look poet get real, the green word

has roots & wings & jewels of fire
& stones from the field on which we trip

& say shit, they are
expensive because

she wants to have them all, the green word
is my daimon, my genius, my soul

it farts in my face, saying Be Not Rude
the green word mothers

me but will never
never never never smother

it grows inside me
like a tree, like a child

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