Sunday, July 31, 2005

Have You Seen the Little Piggies?

I've been talking with members of my family (mom, twin brother, sister). They're all asking the same thing. Is Karl Rove going to get away with treason? The news has gone fairly quiet after the stunning, adrenalin-pumping revelations of the past few weeks. We were jazzed by Karl's plummet. It was thrilling.

Then, it went quiet. And not only that, the republican machine went into full gear in Congress. They passed regressive legislation (energy bill, homeland security, exemption to gun manufacturers, etc), handing more over to the wealthy--some delicious pork for the swine-in-suit insiders. They dragged their lard-fatted bellies up to the trough, and it was a snorting hog-fest of the worst kind. And perphaps, for dessert they will be served the interim appointment of Bolton to the UN. Mmmm deeeelicious.

Yes, we're bemoaning this cruel fate, to be in the hands of the worst and most corrupt administration, certainly in my lifetime. So, I do what I always do in the face of such gut-wrenching, mind-numbing reality-- go for walks, read poetry. Here's something by Wendell Berry I found the other day. I actually did the unthinkable, I edited it for my tastes (isn't that outrageous?). Here's a link to the full text of Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion -- put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

We are practicing resurrection. Awakening. Walking. Learning the land. Going light.

I see something beautiful in the distance.

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