May 2001

And I walked through the windowed turquise cup into the fizzing supplemental libation
Watching bubbles of sparkly scoliosis eating spinal columns
Rotten ribs decaying open wound cake widdled knife wise
All bark carved away leaving shiny smooth beginnings

Stones hurdled from cliff heads
Pounding bounces of rock crumbles down dribbling ocean banks
Foreheads broken sweaty soft blood clots
Whisky pore stink from pocket flask

Open sores asking for remedy sloping concrete
Earth moving and earth dreaming of some curing ointment
To wipe away the highways and sidewalks and Hoover dams and state,
Bank, trade, skyscraping, or postmodern, brick, or Victorian buildings

Just something to make all the pain disappear
Bubbles of mumbling mother earth crying for a stop to the mutilation and manipulation
What is all that oil doing down there under the skin
Beneath the skeletal crust of earth

The sort of question she would like us to ask ourselves
But we can’t ask that question
We can’t ask those questions because we might find out that all those minerals and oils
And fuels we suck rip and dig out of the earth

They might have some greater purpose
Like maybe nourishing and lubricating this great big living rock on which we reside
Well fuck that
I need that fuel and oil to keep my 4 Runner running

I need the vehicle to get around
You might say it expands my destructive capabilities
By broadening my domain
Pull, pull, pull some more of those “resources” out

Supply and demand
I might be talking through a microphone
It might amplify my voice
This is necessary

I can ting ting a ling it
It’s metallic
Maybe there’s a metal stand to
It might ting ting a ling a loo

And a chord probably runs down
Twisty around
Twisty rubber cover
Over the metal wire

Inside maybe copper
Running into some machine
Could be metal
We could ting ting a ling it

Bring some metal object down upon the metal machine
With the knobby’s, levers, and dials
We could break it all down with some metal instruments
Ting ting a ling
ting ting ting

Pound on wood
A dead tree
Bop wood
Now the metal instrument on the metal machine

Ting ting ting
Tree bop a lee
Soon to be leeching out of earth
Something to ting ting play with

What’s on the earth is not enough
Ting
Dig it out
Digging deep and playing with metals ting ting

Bring the sword of progression down on the mother
Ting ting
Suck the milk till it’s gone
Strong lip hold on the tit dry of milk

Sucking on
Ting ting
Can’t hear mothers screams cause the jackhammers are too loud
Ting

And we have stereo’s that ting ting a ling from the inside out
And we’re sucking mothers insides out

So I have to step out of the bubbly beverage
Eat a sandwich and ting ting a ling