forever
moving
as if owned
by invisible wires
dragged
in every
di-rec-tion
the
helpless
morning
rush
millions of ants
so insignificant and little
but driven
an american disposition
for ambition
all
marching
marching
marching
as one
to an invisible hell
This poem was previously published in the chapbook 'The Streetlights are Beckoning Nirvana' (Analog Submission Press)
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