Another attosecond another metamorphosis
another Russian roulette of jelly beans.
Gather in stimuli--
fake ecstasies and press conference meltdowns.
Life after excitement keeps secreting new products:
170,000,000 pages or more
of interactive global index fantasies,
wacko textile designs,
sunshine you'd better love.
Omnipotent terror negates every fear.
Flip through any magazine:
You can feel the crashing planes
turning sculpture into sculpture,
events unfolding the way lava sets as it cools,
dirty pictures of sleeping canyons,
the shaved rock of Appalachian highways,
glossy shots of isocelean hair,
the 30,000 years it takes the sun
to send its love this way
with a brightness blind as the cave lizard
groping for footholds in frozen streams.
I never could see
what was right in front of me.
My wayward learning maybe
confounds the few remaining
who take our kind to be a gem atop the kingdoms--
Human in the sense still propounded
by rarefied nuns, banjo troubadors,
neocons on safari.
But I know what a diamond's worth
to the pressures of the universe,
cuz I am just an object of divine consumption,
a squid sprawled on the cutting board
soon to be calamari.