I TEMPER MY FOLIAGE
IN GREAT GREEN
Storm Trooper Highway, exit 41, a left
through the turnip fields and over the
near hill. Cows on the side, two horses
out left. The wiggle-waggle of an old
dairy-barn falling. That thing, my
friend, it was a silo once.
And once long ago people knew how to talk.
Now they can only sell, and all things
breakaway before them. 'We give away
the candle, but sell the light. That's
where the real money is.' In business,
that's considered true genius.
Scabbard brokers and ducat mongering hellions;
all hands out for dollars and cents. Tales of
glory on academic oceans; fires in the
pits of anxious stomachs. All greed
to be needs first to be developed.
Here. Here, is the landing we must use.