born in a factory

i'm going to pack my stuff up
  throw out materialistic shit
like this macbook and this ipod
 and this itouch and this iphone
 and this ipad and this imac

i will deactivate my gmail accounts
  deactivate my facebook and e-mail them
  asking to delete it and i will stop using
  twitter and my updates will have stopped
  at 6,452 tweets last updated august 7th
but i will buy a blackberry and use foursquare
  so people can track where i am but i will not
  know where i am

i'm going to pack long johns and a winter coat
  and buy an atv to go to maine and
  get myself purposely lost and write
  naturalistic poetry
i will make a lot of money
and write meaningful poetry about trees
and the uncouthness of men
and the infidelity of women

i will probably die alone
  or i will begin to have a relationship
with my mother earth and i will live naked
  during the hot summer days and drink nothing but
  stream water and bathe every two weeks

i will smell like dirt and i will smear myself in mud
  and i will write poems caked in mud

i will write poetry in mud and it will be the epitome
  of naturalistic poetry because it is made with real nature
not written in some acid-free leatherbound notebooks that
  people carry around in williamsburg and portland

i will carve poems into tree trunks and when loggers come
  by cutting trees down they will wonder who
  wrote these poems and they will blame it on
  intelligent bears or mentally superior indians

i think i will purchase a plane ticket to maine
  and buy camping equipment

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