Date: Wed, 28 Apr 1999 22:40:21 -0500 (EST)
From: danceswithcarp <dcombs-AT-bloomington.in.us>
Subject: I live not there...



I live in a place where my food is manufactured by industry; where milk
doesn't spoil, eggs don't rot, vegetables are made with chemicals, and the
flesh of animals is as easy to procure as raindrops in the tempest of a
storm.

My feet are spared the anguish of walking as I travel in a machine
enslaved to transport me through the weather and across the rough earth;
the machine powered by chemicals manufactured like the food I eat, in a
place and in a manner I know not.

If I wish and I have the sheckles I enter into a tunnel and walk through
the tunnel to a seat on a tube-shaped motion-transport machine which
hurls me across the sky, across the continent, across the seas, flying
like no bird, but better, faster, insulated from the deafening roar.

My pathways are wide and concrete and bituminous and I dare not walk in
the middle for fear of machines that transport others but have no souls.
Imagine.  I live in a wirld where the pathways can not be walked.

And across the globe men hurl firebombs and rockets and missiles from
their machines of the skies onto the planet below.  Below, near where the
pathways are filled with people and gardens grow.

Imagine.  Pathways filled with people.  And gardens that grow.  

If the gardens indeed grow and the lives of the people are not
manufactured, why are the pathways filled with people and where are they
going?

Why do people leave their homes?   Blame the firebombs and rockets
and missiles?

I hope you are sanctimonious when you do so.




carp