Lord, they have killed thy prophets,

and digged down thine altars; and I am left alone, and they seek my life.

She talks to her guests of how she buys organic now.

This will help the years of beautiful chemicals

synthetic, which saturate the entire pyramid

and drip down its sides-

paint makes it look pretty.

Hear the rail of fifty thousand machinae shutting down,

clogged with impurities- please make sure nature does its job.

Fifty thousand moving from dwelling to edifice, speaking with the air;

the subway homeless content in conversation with himself.

She talks of how she fears terrorism.

Her home is made up like an old body, full of machines to filter

the air and the water and the food and the surfaces.

The machines become old and are dumped behind Golgotha.

She talks of how she loves the sun and the summertime.

He will emerge from his place in the wild,

where he eats grass from the ground as a beast

She will say, “Come inside and get some fresh air.”

He will say, “What a beautiful television.”

Soon the shroud replaces the virgin garment.

O Death, where is thy sting? When the time comes…

there will be no more summer and no more winter.

Please- legitimize, politicize, build, bandage, drug, dam, and splice;

make sure nature does its job.

According as it is written, God hath given them the spirit of slumber,

eyes that they should not see, and ears that they should not hear; unto this day.


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