Rhetoric dies.
Came from outer space; was well radicalized before it got here.

Freer speech in every direction — your known inclination
for walking strong will accelerate, wild and tranquil,
ruthless in a sense, the boundless layers set in funereal trance
tweeting under the bust of the rhetor, a civil, democratic ideal.

No one tweeting wants to get ‘under..an ideal.’ Freedom is personal.

And we think we like animals.