where do we go

where do we go to settle our debts once the rags have been
washed     when
          the rope of not-having-been
          closes round our

necks? do we stare into an abyssed ball for futures? does the
weight of a grassblade
          shake our weeded yet-to-comes?
          if through this word is to flow

the unheeded burn of the other’s weight     if through this word
is sifted the witch’s
          soothe and her meaning, the
          howl of burn & stitch of

war     if through this word is stone my brother & river my stone
would the calm
          of a paper heathen suppress care
          suppress her hooded scream?


Context
As I begin to familiarize myself with Silvia Federici’s work on reclaiming the commons and linking witch-hunting with the birth of capitalism, I attempt a playful weaving of some of her very powerful insights into verse.