Green Machine

Tantalus of modern age,
Shadow falls upon the stage,
But no one feels.

Aching repetition breaks
On shores worn flat by carousels
Of science wheels.

Million painted faces drawn
Into the same hypnotic void
Of winding reels.

Gasping for an atmosphere,
Thrashing on the deck in vain
Are many meals.

(And poetry is dead they said...)

Spinning in the clearing,
All the fuits forbidden—
Teeth of leaves the gearing
The green machines churn hidden
Beneath the transformation—
Try to grasp the information,
But the waters flow away,
Away, away, away, away, away.

(Poetry is dead they said...)