Here’s how I figure it.
Man is an embellishment,
A metastatic arabesque
Entwining and strangling
Like the bittersweet vine.
With clever stitches we embroider the range,
Seizing the broadcloth of a county and tarting it up.
Roughly corseted, the stream’s meander - a tardy
Boy’s diversion - becomes a basin’s straightened waist.
Heavy industry begets big appetite.
So, you see, we are never more at ease
Than when gnashing what’s complex
Into simple alimentary paste.
But when our teeth irrevocably go
We’re like as not to pitch headlong from some high place,
Exploding our troubled brows
Into sanguine hedgerows.
See us pinch our pretty waste
And fit purging outfalls to percolate the flatulent sea.
So what if thawing tundra suppurates, rots,
And disappears, we’ll make ourselves scarce as well.