Experimental mesocosm are being used at the Konza Prairie to simulate future climate conditions projected to       occur in the Midwest, USA. \\ I want to eat your ass like the Saskatchewan snow       Or acres of shrimp through a thoroughly Polished Kodachrome Killer-Whale fantasy My Yukon beauty Queen, Pan-Americas\                         Pan Ages your catwalk survives as the struts of the Bering Straight                                 migrating between the Aleutians, outriggers of Atlantis        your haversack printed with black dried blood cod & mopokes    Somewhre your re-incarnated hands are pouring tea Like a Nippon screen receiving the stubborn grace of the stuccoed yew-claw    The fineness of your wrists and their tonsure as you dished      The biscuits and bearfat on blue tinplates- our flirting was mute horror And exquisite I guess I just accepted the universe was empty and you are in it   Watching your ticklish red boot pump the gas on your brown            Pontiac That same wrist, tan, trying to coax             ignition there was some electrical excitement but no spirits Getting to the party, your daughter in the shade scraping the hides  w/ the shells of cocked mussels; the cold-world is vascular with bubbles                                           of sugar 'Well. You're bald like an Indian but you're a bit nervous.' I got a moustache and talk Mexican like a Harry Dean Stanton                 [falcon bunches            his tail, by bunching, I guess,                                              his ass] She's Shoshone- her possum and rice make your piss stink Did you notice her disappear several times as you walked up the trail? Whose explanation do you prefer                The jackhammer or the cricket? Auntie Elko's brought photos of the 'smog-o-the-wilderness' that's                                   the visible realm,   The slip-jaw jack-daw of the crow's tongue Nudges forward like a hearse                  in Santa Ana traffic  Or a peeking wooden toy of teutonic folklore       I want to meet a shaman's shaman like Uncle Joe Stalin in the trophy room of a dowager's hut                     In the upplands of Lappland A littleshrine midst the tusk, whale bone, amethyst dung, the hand spinning                       Drum      we had to work quickly before the cameras and film froze,               the Northern Lights konked out & then  the trudge on an empty stomach                                                                    back to Manitoba