Mechanimism
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around the silk mill runs
a god,
stark naked, canines looming—
whether we weave the material
or buy it
we produce, consume, expend—
no—
there’s something deeper:
what’s vanished,
what was made to vanish—
we stopped walking naked, yes?
put on the animal’s skin
& sang, danced, worshipped its severed head,
the material woven,
the roots of the downy hair
reeking
with the breath of what’s buried—
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around the silk mill
on four legs,
furry, sticky, horny-nosed,
it gobbles up
gulp!
the mill women
who spit the thread—
get out of here!