If buildings stand built in the sun
by the oak hill, why must we pay?
when all transactions are known to
release their bonds upon us, why
must we pay? When our lives are short
and end shortly, in the field full
of broken trees, why must we pay?
When skeletons possess estates,
when the dead pile up endlessly
all over the world, and will persist
in doing so until the death
of death itself, one dark moment
is ours, and nothing more, desires
gum up the cogs, they jam, and break,
and we sit amongst the breakage
and stare blankly into it, stare
at the landowner who stares down,
at the wreckage and holds out bones
attached to bones attached to bones,
why must we pay? Why must we pay
when the earth will fall into fire
as its orbital arc decays,
and all long things become shorter
and waste, why then must we pay?