The American Dram

Once upon the rant, Elias-like, we prophesied the antimonian verb. In a garden hidden by a torment of roses, the quietists made the best of their split situation: half worm-eaten, half-reborn with carcass infestation. Those were days when it seemed the world would split open & suck us down into it – or the heavens’d burst & suck us up.

Later, after the days had passed, the quietists came out of their garden, nominally fighting off technological hegemony, all the while unwittingly buttressing the status quo with stakes & lattices.

We went underground, in a sense becoming quietists ourselves – in the dark under dangling roots. We started taking down for up & so finished in a garden of our own.

Elias-like, we returned, down into the old world, fighting gravity & history all the way. Our chariots gleamed with nutrient rich soil.

Upon the rant once gain, with the world turned upside down…