The Forest (415)

A Poem for Speculative Hipsters

Amiri Baraka

He had got, finally,
to the forest
of motives. There were no
owls, or hunters. No Connie Chatterleys
resting beautifully
on their backs, having casually
brought socialism
to England.
Only ideas,
and their opposites
Like,

he was really
nowhere.

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