shiny scaly scintilla

The trickle tells two tales
Remembered “rowdyism”, reconstructed rare ravine
Ere everyone’s ecological enjoyment ebbed;
Easy, eternal estuary,
Sawmill splitting sedge, salmon scaly scintilla

Ferns, firs, frayed felonworts
Inch into isolation, illuminate images
Some stranger sees; sound sighing somewhere
Hold —

Technology
Replies
Ecstatic,
Egocentric
Seattle


list ten_processes unordered:
	earth
	water
	metal
	wood
	mythos
	money
	nature
	material
	time
	progress
(comment out #history)

Set aside an action for inaction

define a function "preserve"
set terrain to an instance of class Ecology
class Valley has-a function spruce that takes self and nature, progress and biology parameters
class Beach has-a initialize that takes self and development parameters
make a class named Stream that is-a Silt
from earth get the material function, call it with parameters self, process, depression
from park get the life attribute and set it to "washout"


list ten_attentions ordered:
	clear
	condemn
	exist
	fulfill
	increase
	invest
	migrate
	replace
	represent
	suspend

establish.self(open)

run


from function (Sacred) declare an instance "human"
Error: Index Out of Range

Stumped water carve the plateau
Layered metal over humus
On a scale inhuman —
We will too someday, in imitation

Earth processes against teeth of negative fire
Reduce the boundary between strata of
Ochre and black until blood of ancients
Separates; and over the wound
Is laid a pretty scar, most livable
Opening the way for all to
Nothing.


In the end of course, they say it is a freeze,
a civilization returning to the Pleistocene.
This “they” know nothing.
This “we” know even less, but certainly;
How faces, constantly rewritten, hold
a history beyond the limits of their material,
their privileged restlessness, their valuations.

Outside shows you writ in water greeting
You mistake for mere gentility, and fine;
No need to give you what you would not value.
Stay awhile, and find: our pulses raw, our
Shields encrusted with the gems you thought once
To steal until you heard the squelch of
Metal forged bones turn tempered blades
As they quench in tears, and rise.


Categories Poetry

Omar Willey was born at St. Frances Cabrini Hospital in Seattle and grew up near Lucky Market on Beacon Avenue. He believes Seattle is the greatest city on Earth and came to this conclusion by travelling much of the Earth. He is a junior member of Lesser Seattle and, as an oboist, does not blow his own trumpet. Contact him at omar [at] seattlestar [dot] net

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