To cut the breeding ground of the wild condor is to cut the dicks of off men. Place stick up and down the inside corner of the eyes, exhale. To pick the eyebrows and apply oily masks to the faces of women is to lead to crusty mouths in the depth of an expanding Sahara desert, a dry desert which can spoil the spirit departed of its wetness. No man's excrement is waste, but the waste that dominates our society is though unprogressed, not even considered for lack of monetary gains or rank. Power is held only in destruction, because the seeds of the spirit can again be reborn.

It is the deafening whistles of our inner ears that alert us that we cannot hear the motors of our own bodies. We waste the earth, and with it take away the living species, all of whom correspond to our very souls. Thereby drying up the grounds of our thoughts, every drop of water gone, we terminate, with our eyes open, and our cracked tongues scorched in lies, never giving back what is stolen from the thief''s own bed, the eggs of a fragile existence.

We must cut the stone to find equations which will move us back to hearing. Unleash angry dogs and raccoons to shit on the lawns. The fertilization process through physical death is the cautios regenerator. As brains spindle off into electricity, the cold beast will strangle every greedy participant who robs the mother of her children.

Every extinction corresponds to a death in the spirit of man. He is robber of his own spiraling beauty. His inheritance is an oil slick; his face is the desert. His heart is the cold ice, which he insists on melting in his lifetime with volatile nuclear explosions.

The interruption of the tides, a dog eating a human hand, worms through the intestines of the highway dead; all are accountable to the amnesia which is growing in the hearts of men; the evaporation of the juices with enforced repetition; the spirit annihilated by calluses formed overconscientiously with deceit and conformity.

-LaDONNA SMITH