Ours is the ancient story:
    Delicate flowers of sin,
Lilies, arrayed in glory,
    That would not toil nor spin.

north dakota     i’m worried about you

the companies you keep   all these new friends     north dakota

            beyond the boom, beyond the precious resources

                        do you really think they care what becomes of you

north dakota     you used to be the shy one

enchanted secret land loved by only a few     north dakota

when i traveled away and told people i belonged to you     north dakota

           your name rolled awkwardly from their tongues

                       a mouth full of rocks, the name of a foreign country

north dakota     you were the blushing wallflower

the natural beauty, nearly invisible, always on the periphery

north dakota     the least visited state in the union    

now everyone knows your name     north dakota

the blogs and all the papers are talking about you     even 60 minutes

i’m collecting your clippings     north dakota

the pictures of you from space

            the flares of natural gas in your northern corner 

                       like an exploding supernova

                                  a massive city where no city exists

                                               a giant red blight upon the land

and those puncture wounds     north dakota     take care of yourself

the injection sites     I’ve seen them on the maps

four thousand active wells    one every two miles

all your indicators are up     north dakota

            eighteen billion barrels, some estimates say

more oil than we have water to extract

            more oil than we have atmosphere to burn

north dakota     you could run the table right now;

           you could write your own ticket

  

so, how can i tell you this?    north dakota, your politicians

    are co-opted (or cowards or bought-out or honest and thwarted)

        they’re lowering the tax rate for oil companies

        they’re greasing the wheels that need no greasing

        they’re practically giving the water away

north dakota     dear sleeping beauty    please, wake up

they have opened you up and said, come in     take everything

    

        what will become of your sacred places

        what will become of the prairie dog

        the wolf, the wild horses, the eagle

        the meadowlark, the fox, the elk

        the pronghorn sheep, the rare mountain lion

        the roads, the air, the topsoil

        your people, your people

        what will become of the water

north dakota     who will ever be able to live with you

once this is all over     i’m speaking to you now

as one wildcat girl     to another     be careful     north dakota

Alfonso is a handsome bronze-hued lad

         Of subtly-changing and surprising parts;

His moods are storms that frighten and make glad,

         His eyes were made to capture women’s hearts.

Down in the glory-hole Alfonso sings

         An olden song of wine and clinking glasses

And riotous rakes; magnificently flings

         Gay kisses to imaginary lasses.

Alfonso’s voice of mellow music thrills

         Our swaying forms and steals our hearts with joy;

And when he soars, his fine falsetto trills

         Are rarest notes of gold without alloy.

But, O Alfonso! wherefore do you sing

         Dream-songs of carefree men and ancient places?

Soon we shall be beset by clamouring

         Of hungry and importunate palefaces.