A Poem for Pantagruel

Institutions crumble
under the big foot of man
But when he sits; rests, too long
he builds them tall by hand

By Brooke

Journalist and collector of community narratives who is interested in phenomenology and the everyday. Fan of serial commas, she can often be found interviewing strangers and photographing fire hydrants.

Institutions crumble
under the big foot of man
But when he sits; rests, too long
he builds them tall by hand

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