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2020-07-22, poems

With the Oil Man

fracking is good for
extracting vast typecast
rocks from the earth, powerhouses
formed by pressure, squeezed out of
god’s typewriter with aggressive force,
you oil and gas companies don’t know
the wilderness, you only know drilling
and drilling

(we make good money though)

the oil sands are confusing, so
are the trees and the
cliffs and the ocean filled with
black oil, not very good for
our friends there

(i get that)

imports and exports cremated
for electricity, do those
make us better off or just
worse? why are we not
nervous? have we grown out of
old puny fears?

(there are no more revolutions)

a couple weeks ago,
i heard, the
president of
big oil said
we had become
he’s from
i’m from maine
and i’m not paranoid—

(may i ask you a question?)

go ahead, oil man

(what will my sons
think of me?)

when you’re deep under the ground
and your mansion is then an old mansion
your sons will think of you as
another layer of sediment
and you know what to do with
pressurized sediment:
burn burn burn

either that
or they won’t think
of you at all.