“I Spit Dust” by Darin Milanesio

The fog was making whispering sounds

It was rising up from the earth

Like spirits from the past


I spit dust from my mouth

Just to prove I’m a working man

But some people will never know

what happens past the mountains


The factories closed down and the people lost their minds

I don’t mean to be rude

But the old man at the coffee counter screams about the terrorists


Dead pets lie on the roads and wait for coyotes

I turn my gaze away when I pass them by


I told my doctor I’ve been broke for far too long,

but I’ve still had a cupboard full of pills for far too long


I think of church spires rising up to the heavens

I wonder if virtual dreams will replace drowning spirits

Will leaders form on the mountains to greet us?


The summit may not be reached

but I see a trek—salt of the earth people

winding its way like a snake from valleys to mountainsides


Image Credit

Darin Milanesio is the Metaworker’s Public Relations and Social Media Manager.

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