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Responsibility is making certain
Nothing is leftover. In the utmost clearing
Where you find yourself after all
That ability, is not much light
To work by. Also, whoever watches
Is in the condition of waiting. Employment
Of what you know goes into this, metal
Tailored for your palm alone, each tool
Managed so your good luck gets spread around
Enough to explain any result, to consider
Any tremble. This last animal does not want you
Or to be you, only to know
What you want. To use the entire body
Is to kneel down; her bones are the price
Of information. What reveals wilderness
Undoes wilderness; in your hands
The instruments for which you will be known
Work even without you. Each morning
The leather bag prepared so you can talk yourself
Backward into whatever derives
From settling in with the grass; so many are the eyes on the one
Hint of prey, intent on how to eat beyond
The temptation of leaving just enough
Again for desire, even worship.
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Both regulators and employers have embraced new technologies for on-the-job monitoring, turning a blind eye to unjust working conditions.
But I do miss the hymns, / the small, hard apples with their dimpled skin. I do miss / things.
The vast hinterlands of the Global South’s cities are generating new solidarities and ideas of what counts as a life worth living.