you shall feel

the bumpkin fell on her head last night

you could say she was inspired

she took a rocket from her purse

and lit the thing on fire

and all ablaze in a nuclear haze

she stumbled to the water

with one step on and one step off

her molecules got lighter

"i could not rest," she said to me

indicted by saintly crime

"when all around me is a hurt

i can no longer mime

"i carried this old rocket 'round

through war and rape and riot

and when at last i needed it

i set the thing on fire"

the nuclear heat was wearing her down

her skin began to peel

but on that day i knew that she

at last began to feel

adieu fair beauty in a cloud

i shall miss having you around

but i understand your burning need

to launch yourself and let it bleed

remember us on earth below

if consciousness holds fast and true

but if it does not at least you are free

from this empathic poverty


from nina paley's "sita sings the blues"