I Too many at a tIme I can’t even begIn to defIne WIthout an I and that Is the problem. I’s a problem we fInd. I can exIst but alone It cannot. I have to be lost In a Sea of we or I am nothIng. Already thIs Is lIttered. I’s In so many words. What draws us to It? Why Is the Ink never enough? Is there somethIng wrong wIth the heart. The thIng that drIves beauty Eats It to. NothIng pretty In any of It. In ovens, In torn up paper besIdes poIson. In losIng an ear then losIng sIx months later. In gettIng stuck In a garage or leavIng In a lake. In sleepIng on hIgh or jumpIng to the lows. It’s not beauty. Yet. What Is cut short does not grow. What we lament after Could be lamented now. I don’t wIsh It. Yet. I don’t know but, The more we wrIte about It The less we have of It. So I don’t wIsh It. I don’t desIre It. I don’t desIre It. In a sea of I’s I have To fInd the shore of We.
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Duncan Cuervo is an Irish Mexican poet trying to seek out better worlds and alternative futures. Growing up in an arid desert inspired Duncan's sense of escapism, particularly a love of sci-fi and space. Now living in a concrete desert Duncan enjoys herbal gardening, urban foraging, and quoting niche history facts.