In Carbondale by Cliff Fell

Consider the glue
that holds all this together,
be it the cold light
of the diamond in the mine,
the gold in its seam
below the forest
or the shale oil reserves
of the Arctic Circle�
each in its way a party hat
that pays homage
to DJ culture
or signals the slow
corruption of thought.
But right from the start
let it be said
that to our knowledge
the art of the oil slick