The desert is beneath us
And the artifice of water
And our smoke is like the shadow
Pulling primrose from the stone
And we're standing, as they're standing
On the fingers of Tecumseh
In the mouth of Massapequa
In the ancient dance of bone
We have ladled over everything
A seamless interventionAnd the roundness of perfection
And the sharpness of our flight
But the dunes beneath the diners
Are the aquifers forever
For the flesh and fur and feather
Hidden silent from our sight
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I like it.
ReplyDeleteSo is the point that we're only hiding nature, not subjugating it?
ReplyDeleteIndeed. Including, I would say, our natural selves.
ReplyDeleteI hadn't thought about it on that level but it makes sense: We are, after all, "ugly bags of mostly water."
ReplyDelete