3.16.2009

ecopoetics

i was supposed to write an ecopoetic poem, but i put it off to the last minute and came up with something that has nothing to do with anything.  it's not finished:



SPRING BREAK ‘09!


we left it was 5:30 and grey and Gray
L.A. was (approximately) 1303.61 miles
away with the stratus and snacks and gas
packed for a trip down
95, 495, 640, 40, 59, 459, 10, 610, 310, 90
South and West
with no stops except for gas
and cigarettes
and coffee
and Foam Henge
and buffets
and stretching
and Knoxville
and bathrooms / restrooms
if absolutely
necessary.

we’re going to build so many houses
tomorrow! we said not now!
at night with the mechanical
bull and dancing
on bars and test tube shots
from bras and HAND GRENADES
on bourbon street with manrobots / manfemales/ with manshirt-
less and homeless(er) waiting
in the blue bayou under
an hour away.

Hi volunteers we’re so happy you made it, we hope you have a great time this week pretending to work and care about the people in need. Now, we know that you just want to get out of here as fast as possible, so we’re going to provide you with free housing and a very simple but limited workload in hopes that you don’t destroy our progress. And please don’t forget to donate your money so that we can pay professionals to correct your inevitable mistakes. Don’t worry, they’ll come after hours while you’re on our beaches eating at quasi “local” restaurants with prime snapshot opportunities that prove you are certainly not a tourist.
Thank you!


“Bon Jovi brought the crack!”
the locals say
something about destruction
and culture or environment and
not exactly the best habit-
tats for human-ity,
BUT the Jovi donated one million
dollars
Wade’s Hawaiian shirt argues—
without him this very development
wouldn’t be possible.
without him there’d be no homes
on Bon Jovi Blvd.

there’d be no trim to repaint
with tiny overused brushes—
don’t touch that circular saw,
or hammer, or wood,
or anything,
just paint and repaint and re-repaint
then shovel
dirt from this pile
to this pile,
idiots.

Wow these southerners sure are
backwards we comment in
awful southern accents:
They park cars 
in rivers and roofs
kept in basements for
safekeeping, no wonder they
so desperately need our help
and overarching 
generalizations.

this place is beautiful
through windshields
saw Exxons and grass
and reststops and states
and gators
in stew and frogs
legs on plates from
that little known hometown restaurant
stop Dynasty Buffet
(the one with the pretty yellow
billboard above the treeline
and what may have been
a home.)

cameras ready for documenting
destruction with smiles
climbing piles of lives
for the best photo ops
cause six hours with ten breaks
makes good people
and the worst 
volunteers.

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