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.: 2008 year of the poem

.: Texas, yeehaw

Oilrigs are Boring pt. I

Drilling rigs are boring through the iris of the earth one finds the salt of the gods imitating water but poison to the yeast When descending into the Iris of the Earth relative baselines become basin and source while one weathers into the other unending the valley is to the mountain as the root is to the peak and the crust to the rift where all mountains begin from compression produced therein From the Salt of the Gods Ra's Chariot becomes commonplace to dangle on a thread between love and hate in our roadrage and mercenary economy of corporate lobbying In imitating water heaven's abode is synthesized giving life to the tree of economy but so large it grows kills the ground growth and threatens to topple onto houses in senescence from 10,000 winds caught in it's leaves

Boundary_Tree Oil Rigs are Boring pt. II

It rolls in the pump runs behind the weight of pipe presses bit down in line grinding ground down to be removed by mud and eaten by loggers for dinner grind and slide the pipe dives down plundering its thunder to the depths underground driving for the mining of sweet nectar on every hectare for miles around feeding off the believing striving for the mining rigging for the digging boring for the soaring righands and company man toolpushers, mudloggers directional drillers and yes even the hot shotters bring it to you wholesale oil, natural gas, man's lasso for economy of energy for midnight shining lights on paved roads here to Bangalore to dine on nectar near the evening tide

Oil Rigs are Boring pt.III

The glorious mud pits how divine thy steel how smooth your flow how driven to achieve how solid your prow In all you achieve Thy divine steel strong but laid back massively racked in portable lairs amendable to any fare your strength comes from within Thy smooth flow consulted for secrets as to how you go where you've been what you've done giving run to the owls sagacity in the gnomes hollow Thy drive to achieve coordinated in every atom, every pulse, every instinct a little better in everything having consulted the genie with but three wishes as you bear gravity's burden like your own only seeking company for yourself Thy solid prow leading away to victory leading away to industry foot by foot minute by minute every hour In all you achieve, mudpits, your strong but laid back, consulted for secrets, and coordinated in your instinct leading away to industry in all you achieve

South of Ft. Stockton

South of Ft. Stockton miles around... miles the gasfield piles pipe down underground there's found natural gas massed and packed in sand and chert underground lounging for ages, doing no work having been converted from biological earth through pressure and heat squeezed and trapped back in the day. The worm converted to gas the algae matt the crinoid the brachiopod all, smashed and cracked squeezed real flat till mud formed rocks and flesh formed docks for midnight oil booms to light the night with grinding to fill the sight with industry Steel, mud, grease, more mud the flood of money the blasting of rock the driving of trucks the long bumpy the digging of pits filled with brine mix and derrick erected with trailers round to house the Rockstars and Owls and all the horsepower on sleds to drive the bit round and down and down, and down past the wellhead through geology underground past shales and limestones sands and chert below cattle and elk and roadrunner dirt beneath blazing heat and westerly winds lies the salt of Gods under this lone star, tonight.

Oilrigs are Boring pt. IV

The massive racked pipe attack vertical mass distraction of natural gas resevoir hor derves percolating aquifers shining dollar signs in greedy vines that climb the highest rites twining in around about below ground slurping and CO2 burbing pumps and thrumps that bump and slurp and suck and pucker up for that last bit of rat hole leavings left at the ends. Met with mud flogging the bet, the rent gets paid and Daddy gets to drive his crash car. And Mom stays warm all winter long and Brother Lonney gets a chance at screwing up the planet just as bad just as bad as his grandparents thought they had when they landed limited liability for money laundering mongers and abandonment of research in Reagen oil shortage eras of clean green thinking energy needs to laugh, cry, live, and love like we all know we should... Gadgets of distraction, thinking we need this that or the other weed growing just there because it offsets the symmetry of the lawn that thinks when it yawns, "if you hadn't been so preoccupied by buying time, you wouldn't have had needed that offset for that painful ride" taste creating tastes and lifestyle pastes commutes brought less wasted by radio chains that link and propagate consumer priorities "I'll be that sexy if I buy that underwear," lensing flairs for this or that into your normality twisting your needs and self-identity until one day I heard the normal thing to do was to get braces no matter how painful it is for something as cosmetic as meringue on lemon pie

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