They trapped them in Iceland
to work the British mines
and pull carts all their lives
unless they got away
and made such habitation for
a black horse with flaring nostrils
That was stomping mad.
PONY is really Pit Pony, or Pit Poetry. He spent his life at the bottom of a coal mine. He is the last of his kind. The split on his leg is where it was broken. It healed and it got him back up in the air again. There's no point to a broken pit pony. What can he pull? He has a cousin, Pity, an experimental rabbit who lived in a cage in the basement of the
Pit pony blind in Britain,
Those people doomed to walk with their heads down around the fire in Plato’s cave have counterparts among those who do to nature what is done to us. I mean the pit pony that pulled coal carts in British coal mines is an image of ourselves. They became blind from the darkness.
To borrow our identity from the natural means to reckon that pit pony blind in British coal mines, no matter what century, is an image of ourselves. As Kafka's ape become a man is now considered by the European Court of Human Rights for treatment of the same rights as people, cases pend in Spain and Austria to keep them "from being tortured."
BLACK CARP / SYMBOLIC SNAIL
Empathy for the world is empathy for the burrow. Whatever creature we endanger (salmon, coral reef, shark, prairie dog), what isn't endangered is the star of El Señor de los Afligidos, the exotic black carp of the Mississippi, Jacques Derrida and the boundaries broken by tiny invasive snails. They sit a dozen to a dime. We preserve the pristine native, to profile and safeguard the indigenous, but surrender ourselves to the exotic right up until there is such "diversity" of the GMO seed and hybrid humans so as to destroy the natural, the way of Walmart. Diversity means monolith. Annihilate one hundred species to invite the one. The way we treat the natural is the way we treat ourselves, techniques used to save it must be used upon ourselves. Folk patterns are all that hold us to the root and stalk that the big blender is waiting to swallow.
Monolith masquerades as diversity. Diversity is its opposite. Likewise paradise is its opposite but made to seem not. Now is not called a paradise. Then is paradise. Now is a wish for paradise, a dream species of it when the thing is all around. This inverted bifocal, an anocular polyopy, down deep looking through the wrong end inverted prevents seeing that we are now in paradise. This is it baby!
Do not call it freedom when you get new siding for your house. Call it what it is, juxtaposing then and now, unless you think you're an unrealized Buddha when you're not, unless Buddha is a robot, a spirit Christian, except your paradise is poison. You live in a paradise that annihilates wilderness. You live in a cocoon-prevented knowing. We were made for danger and we live in paradise. What lacks? An antidote of stars and sea and the forests of meaning.
Comfort is annihilation. Satisfaction, full stomach. Reverse paradise has no edge of bark, pine, grass or predator. This paradise has violated. Robots in prison! Of course it is not "paradise," the man-made inversion semantics, clothes dryers and dish washers, "frustration" at oil spills, fear of wilderness, trees that hide the darkness reversed so the good is evil, the evil is good. Not understood. In line with the bi-polar there are two Paradises. One destroys wilderness, the source of natural life. This paradise civilization made. It is every effort of power to control and domesticate, every effort to boil down to the most common.