Et Tu, Pruitt?

oil and water

 Et Tu, Pruitt?

Et Tu, Pruitt?

These couchings and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
And turn pre-ordinance and first decree
Into the law of children. Be not fond,
To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood
That will be thaw’d from the true quality
With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words,
Low-crooked court’sies and base spaniel-fawning.

And with these words I promise thee, subjects of Rome
Citizens of the world
To build sandcastles in the floodplains
and let thy lands be flooded by rising waters
of the Tigris, the Euphrates, and the great Hubris.

Unlift thy petulant bans on poisons
that wouldst delay arrays of locust swarms
but rather spread like plague to the house spider
the tiger moths and honey bees, the lowly earthworms.

To let miners mine for seams of coal
Fear not the plumes of fly ash,
Bottom ash, slag, and flu-gas sludge.

Cut down the mountaintops
and sing upon them thy wretched anthems
Rip the sinew from the bones
of the earth’s core —
The age of coal returneth
stolen riches from the ground
to the pockets of
a pale and greying urban ore.

Lay the pipelines for a bright tomorrow
Run the savages from the land
Pelt them with rubber bullets
tapped from the ancient forests of Brazil
Spray them with a frozen torrent
to die in their homelands
with naught but fouled water
to quench their savage thirst.

Open the methane valves
Fill the atmosphere with the stink of sulfur
and rotten eggs
the sweet smell
of napalm in the morning.

Take up the hunt against the grizzly
the gray wolves and seagoing beasts
Hang their pelts like flags along the shores
where horizon fires blaze on the scaffolding
beyond the continental shelf
the drill bits boring,
siphoning black blood
of the dinosaurs —
Here, we shall watch the golden
sunset of our discontent.

Fill the parks and monuments with debris
as a monument to a dream
of plastic cities, of oil barrens
and Polyester Princes
with bastard sons who hunt the last
White Rhino, who murder the matriarchs
of elephant herds, lining their shoe boxes
with irony, with fur and rubles
fill their chamber pots with Putin’s whispers,
their phonographs with Pushkin’s liberating odes.

A sonic boom in the ice
is nice in the Arctic summer
while the greenhouse gases gather overhead.

You see the Northern Lights, Baron,
Your daddy hung those
just for you.

De-list, de-reg, de-light!
Sea turtle soup served
on a fleet of aging tankers
in this tour of the melting ice –
no carbon credits accepted
for the copper filter cake
but the covfefe is always complimentary.

Turn the turds all loose
in the waterways!
Frack away, dear friends
while we fritter it all!
No more fish limits because…no fish!
Seabirds can stay right here
there’s plenty of room
in our new improved swamp
Hop on the bullet train
Shoot a mechanical bison
while watching the rolling countryside
as we roll it all back –
water, air, soil, and sea.

I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause
Will he be satisfied.

But see how Caesar’s raving mob
now fills his empty mall.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s