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Some More Free Grass (Whitman + Lessig)

January 23, 2014

How straight and square they
stand, tenacious, to think they
can own perfection.

Small the theme I sing.
I am a man, great!  I am
quite universal.

I was wrong today.
According to its poisons,
I wear my failure.

Against the laws of
poetry, I sing appeals,
expensive, absurd.

O woman I love,
lips of love hot and vapors,
singing in my blood!

To watch the system
mock our visions, bathed in
the blood of poets.

I listen, and I
do it through the creative
act of piracy.

The soul of a book
is content if I simply
sing the copyright.

As if your stories
were lewd, music at the end
of integrity.

Composed in collaboration with Gnoetry 0.2 and these texts:
Lawrence Lessig, Free Culture
Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

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