Metal Leviathan
A Motorcycle Phantasia Set in The Pine Barrens
Image courtesy of Dalle
Rip through this talc sea
metal leviathan
swing your fluke
burst through sand swells
spoondrift arthritic trees;
for the tree line is burning,
the ashes loam the soil,
a dusty phoenix is looming,
and my thoughts do roil;
“Is it merely sweet sulfur,
this kindled pine?
or an unquenchable fire
whose source is Devine?”.
Teeth chatter grit fine,
engine chortles,
drips grease in this Judea of Pine-
a graffitied rock
errant crushed cans;
if nothing is left
is nothing left behind?
Something slithers round my boot
and soon I am entwined
the phoenix sings loudly
with a voice of strychnine,
“The industrialists built smelting plants,
the capitalists melted iron,
wineries plucked berries,
and out of the land
bled wine,
nothing is left,
therefore
I will leave nothing behind.
For as the Lord said,
“Vengeance is mine.”
The ground swallows
bike, sand, and “I”
all now are mesenchymed;
I am only a thought
mentioned for you
the one I left behind;
“Nothing is left of me
I will soon meet the Devine
I bequeath you my emptiness
set free in the land of pines.”
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