Underneath our feet lie America’s ancient etheric conduits reverberations of potassium spurning anabolic sprouts piercing upwards towards the sun. From this root network flows the blood of man dirt and water and microbe and detritus implying flesh implying its return.
And yet it’s
The Rockefeller Foundation’s Green Revolution dropping mushroom clouds of glysophate ammonium nitrate vinyl chloride any petrochemical you name it’s sluicing through the living matrices of your local aquifer. Precision machine parts all rusted out no one knows how to maintain them anymore they all retired to a condo in Tahoe but blood works as lubricant and the young fit in the cylinders and so biolabs have the power to make ultra wounds in the American spirit. At the very least we have more CO2 in the air it’s pro-metabolic you see that’s why insects used to be so large that’s why they’re so insistent on stamping it out no amount of foie gras can sate geriatric Faust’s envy.
And yet the bill comes due. And yet
And so as the sludge of their dark workings gunks up life’s vortices it reveals their contours by contrast that they exist at all and so man discovers again the grass alchemy of cow’s milk he consults again oracles attuned to the cosmos and so interlocking fractalling spirals move faster now faster now the whole thing out of tune a shattering a phase shift a million nanobusinesses opened and closed the same day drone swarms protecting village states and hypersonics to Venus and over there Nick Land’s addiction to speed sets the reservoirs all alight all orange flames stretching upwards and they’re– they’re melting those fucking white LEDs! and the stars! we can see the stars again!
And so we walk in between flames and in between glaciers and the ash of the transition falls on our heads and hands. Our bare feet and bison hoof and bio-mechanical tractor work the ash deep into the soil, into the Earth, into deep black terra petra and out there you can hear the ethereal voice of America sing once more.