Pouring, winding from the wound, riven
deep in the Earth’s good side; the black
blood pulses that twists the mainspring,
driving the human surface mechanics.
Oil is transformed into money – black gold
fabricates paper-transactions and promises.
The price of a barrel, sprung on a delicate
fulcrum, pitching joy into stultification and despair.
Riven side in the corpus of the new god,
and we expect many human sacrifices, 5 billion
or so when all the oil is gone.
Meanwhile eyes flinch in horror at intoxicated
beaches, wetlands, birds, livelihoods and dreams,
that do not yet see the half of what is to come.”
Christopher James Rhodes.