Crown yourself with leaves and stake your claim before something smears up the paint. I turned away from darkness to see daylight, to see what would happen. What happened? What does a man want? Power. The men spread, the thought extends. I paint them out, I paint them in again. A blur of forces. Why take more than we need? Because we can. Deep footprint, it leaves a hole. You’d break your heart to make it bigger, so why not crack your skull.
Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors - Richard Siken