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Greg McVerry

My knuckles
scraped, dirt
congeals with blood
I stack the fallen rock
and slip into
time scales
a rock turned
by glacier
cleared by Slash and Burn
Indigenous farmers
stacked neatly
in abandon
walls by
a Conquering culture
restacked by
Suburban decsendants
now mixing my
blood into
this soil
as moss
falls to my time
Rocks when
you listen closely
sing of such beautiful


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