Make you think

Merchant of Rhetoric


Nothing is unnatural at all.
Not shining surf nor pounded metal;
Not rusted gearhead or oaken oar.
Golden pharaohs are degraded dust
Sealed from sands that never settle
In mountains of sediment and must.

Hear out the blazing hornet’s circuit,
Watch as all engines guzzle up blood.
Count up the towers in your sockets,
Feel how your flesh depresses, revives;
How the heart is a cylinder block,
The structured city a corniced hive.

Even the orderly nodes on chips,
Even those wires shirted and screwed:
All of them crafted from dirt and chalk,
All of them born from element earth,
All of them yellow lightning runs through—
A power plucked from heaven’s hearth.

People of mind, you run on this fire,
Sparking and seething, murder, create;
Clay molding clay, your natural roar
Calls for mechanical gadgets of use,
Tempers inherencies inchoate.

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