Estom Yamin, the Indian name for the Sutter Buttes
Means surrender to peace in Hebrew.
But we transacted codes as we were born to do,
With the underground inverted like a sluice
From the pyramid rising in the rice marsh
One golden stone and all of its crumbles
In the late afternoon red shadows of rock walls
Of unknown origin, not easily formed even today
And for no current purpose, as the owners are unmarked
Except for the federal plutocracy, who will let you
Walk a tiny stretch as long as you are minded
By a guide, who knows the art of deflection,
Knows to say ICBM Titan to any free range question
As if the water from the underground well was still drinkable,
Only rust you see not the half-life dust
Annihilation consciousness prophecied
In the bunker stocked with plutonium glass.
The cold war cover ended many years ago, now it's only apathy
At this anamoly in the peach tree fields,
The secret payments to pistachio farmers
Not to speak of what they see at night,
That other mode of governance,
The poison almond wisdom bloom like snow
For deer to escape under, starseeds to follow crows
To find what can't be said.
That's precisely how it is known.
