Left Behind

We can make paper out of cow shit,

but I’m still writing on the trees,

like I were leaving stanzas in the leaves

and trying to find roots in a system

already torn up from the Earth

like this separation anxiety

is now the only thing left to measure distance

and all those things we’ve labeled

have since been given different names.

 

Advertisements

About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: