Los Angeles twists on Sierra—
A snow-melt from faucet to desert—
And gargles the fossils with toothpaste.
The mountain is boundary, sentry;
And distance is measured in pipelines
We lay like a path to the future.
The future is now and it orbits
A tribe in Brazil in an airplane
And photographs warriors fleeing.
The past is around us, it threatens
The girder with rust and the freeway
With sinkholes; turns water to sewage.
Machines are the network: they've processed
The distance with diesel, computed
The time with those nerves of connection,
And mingled—yet mingle the present
With infinite loops where the t-shirts
And bottles go drift in the ocean
That links all with shorelines and current
And plastic and ink made of pixels
With past to the future, with present.
"Four Americans taken hostage after their yacht was hijacked by Somali pirates off the Horn of Africa last week were killed early Tuesday when gunfire erupted during attempts by the United States Navy to negotiate with their captors, American military officials said. American officials had opened a channel of communication between the pirates’ financier as well as elders from their village to help negotiate the hostages’ release."
—J. DAVID GOODMAN. The New York Times, Published: February 22, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/23/world/africa/23pirates.html
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