Gospel of Thomas, Saying 113

Let's workshop this poem that challenges the romantic notion of a pristine wilderness existing before human technological advance

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Gospel of Thomas, Saying 113

Before that watershed harvest
(meteorite iron for daggers),
no pristine wild thrived—

unless we are prepared to say,
which perhaps we should,
that the Edenic spawn point

has only tweaked its look,
and continues to even through
anthrax and fusion bombs.

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