Burning Man Survival Guide

‘The rich are flown in on private planes…’ New York Times

On the page opposite, an image of the Burning
Man and his flaming shadow where it is similar to
what language poets believe grammar itself to be

in a vacant future. The optics play
especially well in the pricier suburbs and gated
communities where they refuse to let the devil in

no matter what language he speaks whisperingly
in their ears. In town, the mass protest was heavily
advertised; however, the deal included

the spaghettification of those masses in real time.
Still humans are territorial animals, people
have the necessary tools. Dazzling in what those outposts

had to offer (a blur of sugar, bright color and crassness)
‘I imagined some kid who moved only, or mostly,
through such bland bright spaces, spaces

perfectly constructed to suit the purposes of distant
profit.’ Yet, in sarcoline fields we are already seeing
all my life decisions, the timeline itself a bit wobbly, not

quite stable, a sacrifice of lives. Here I see a rise
in solidarity, dystopian cities, a bent circle,
a carnival ride where the lights go out. Venus in Scorpio.

David Wyman's first poetry collection Proletariat Sunrise was published by Kelsay Books. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Dissident Voice, BlazeVOX, Clockwise Cat, Picaroon Poetry, Down In The Dirt, The Voices Project, Squawk Back, Tuck Magazine, The Aurorean, Zombie Logic Review, S/WORD and Genre: Urban Arts among other publications. He's a fan of Karl Marx, jazz guitar and the visionary poetry of William Blake. He lives in Massachusetts where he teaches American Literature and Composition at Mount Wachusett Community College. Read other articles by David.