cranes vomit chunks of dirt and anthracite, clouds of carbon and dust, out of their towering st(mouths)acks. graceful, skeletal swans dip back and forth, in and out, as they gut the earth of decaying matter. their frames, constructed laterally, bow in the center from the weight of the refuse.

remorse can be heard in the rustic joints of the machines. they weep and moan, send tremendous echoes that reverberate through the dense, smoky atmosphere.

we are parasites, viruses feeding on the cell structure of a feeble geology. the bedrock, the petroleum, the coal diminishes. the plane on which we walk fractures, and soon there will be nothing to replace it.

the cracks will widen and we will slip through them. we will tumble through space with the cranes. directionless and without a point of focus.

industry will succumb to science in it’s war on tranquility. the cyclic patterns of depression will no longer reign, and chaos will overcome man.

thus begins the golden age of science. all matter will organize freely without restraint. and nature will no longer sustain humanity.

arise! throttle the gravity, the voice of human logic that compacts your being. scramble the complacent mass into an orgy of free motion.