How it All Began

It was long ago when the world was somewhat
flatter
that the first farmer gave up growing
rope
in order to cultivate rats, charmed by the dears
hustling
to make the earth a labyrinth, an unseen
order
of soil and chips of lightning driven
cruelly
down the path of most resistance up
straight
into untouched air where the drill bits turned
molten
but not too soon, for the blood and rust machine
shook
and all at once a hundred million differentials
meshed
and up stood civilization on its own hind legs
yowling
for the flash and tonnage of razor cathedrals
tumbled
in the battle-lit night of smoke and flame
cheerless
as chaos and the grim expectation of the last
command
which, when it came, split open the planetary
skull
out of which cracked pot invisible consciousness
grew,
sent levers to the base of the buried sun,
lifted
the mean god into life and everlasting
misunderstanding
to shine on the clouded dawn of ratkind,
who,
in ceremonious appreciation, gave the last farmer
land
flat enough to look like home, although it smelled
infested.