I am a scholar of thenebbing dictionarynthat I threw on the path where younkick up dustnnand there's a human shaped birdnon the groundnon the pathnby the grassnby the treesnhear the soundnof the words.nHere she is,nbent to seenwith her eyesnwarm and wetnchoking breathesnlooking over the men i have slain/ncain on the ground, next to abelnwith their hands entwinednas the voice fades outta their mindnbut echos and echos off mennyeah, i shot the gun at those dogs;nmade them run round the track like a watch nwho's time has come.nwhat you want you can get from menand the miles i walked to look in the mirror at me/nmen on the ground with their handsnsoaked in the blood of the dirt on the landnthey are the ones with raised voices who said,nthe environment evolved and grew legs to walk awaynfrom the environment and that plants have evolved intoncities and pavementnnand they were WRONG so i shot them downnran on foot to the nearest townnnever slept, spitting coffee groundsnas a trail that would lead back tonme as i slept on the trainnand the circles and circles we takengoing around and around and around and aroundngetting dizzy, and falling flat on our face/nface down in the dirtntell me, have you seen the beauty on earth?nnature cradles her womb before birthnand to think that it seems some don't know what it's worthnnnow i have become claustrophobicninside my own soapboxnand i wished there was something to saynto whisk the both of us awaynn