I want to be somewhere
where the ground is green
and black and orange
and swells and ebbs
like an ocean of dirt.
I want to found
a retirement village
on an island of the black
amidst the green and orange
so we can sit and watch
the sunset be indistinguishable
from the ground.
I want us all to take up metalcraft
and sit on our porches and make
jewelry with the fire in the ground
and the fire in the air and the fire
in the oven and the fire in our blood.
I want us to forget what we know
and only use what we learn anew.
Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Stone of Madness, Thirteen Myna Birds, and Caustic Frolic, among others.