The Weather of Railroads
Nodding on a cockcrow Amtrak,
Lulled by the ticking of ties,
The sweep of a floodstage Missouri,
Birds wheeling the luminous oxbows.
Railclatter crossing bells.
Back in the diner,
Conductor blows rings at forms:
“John door’s broke, AC’s broke,
the train crew’s broke…”
Trackside junkyards flow:
Miles of loading docks,
Rustpiles, tank cars on sidings.
Cranes dangle hooks over
Wrecks heaped like husks:
A school bus full of mufflers,
Cracked foundry ladles
Like church bells on a flatbed.
Black grandma across the aisle:
“Jesus what makes you breathe..,”
But Heaven’s only a switchback
In this here to there stream
Of iron slang and rocking Pullmans,
And we are the weather of railroads,
Just blowing through.
Lulled by the ticking of ties,
The sweep of a floodstage Missouri,
Birds wheeling the luminous oxbows.
Railclatter crossing bells.
Back in the diner,
Conductor blows rings at forms:
“John door’s broke, AC’s broke,
the train crew’s broke…”
Trackside junkyards flow:
Miles of loading docks,
Rustpiles, tank cars on sidings.
Cranes dangle hooks over
Wrecks heaped like husks:
A school bus full of mufflers,
Cracked foundry ladles
Like church bells on a flatbed.
Black grandma across the aisle:
“Jesus what makes you breathe..,”
But Heaven’s only a switchback
In this here to there stream
Of iron slang and rocking Pullmans,
And we are the weather of railroads,
Just blowing through.
Thunderstorm Seen As an Event of the Central Nervous System
Midnight,
41st & Walnut,
walking the dog in the rain,
neural nets lulled
with St. Pauli Girl Dark,
Missouri Gold.
Sidewalks stream
this side of the optics.
High beams flare.
Twig snags whirlpool gutters.
The cyclone night
flows through the cortex,
synaptic triggers
on currents of association,
retinas wandering
riffles and pools,
archipelagos of blacktop,
focusing rain in lamp light,
snails in rings of reflection.
Dog sniffs
old black roots
then signs his name.
Splashing across Walnut
in lightning and downpour,
we are neon fiber,
conscious filaments.
Ventral roots thunder.
Alpha waves wash cellular shores.
The city pulses,
nervous with sirens,
the weather for tonight:
thunderheads of the spine,
drumrolls
in the reptilian complex.
41st & Walnut,
walking the dog in the rain,
neural nets lulled
with St. Pauli Girl Dark,
Missouri Gold.
Sidewalks stream
this side of the optics.
High beams flare.
Twig snags whirlpool gutters.
The cyclone night
flows through the cortex,
synaptic triggers
on currents of association,
retinas wandering
riffles and pools,
archipelagos of blacktop,
focusing rain in lamp light,
snails in rings of reflection.
Dog sniffs
old black roots
then signs his name.
Splashing across Walnut
in lightning and downpour,
we are neon fiber,
conscious filaments.
Ventral roots thunder.
Alpha waves wash cellular shores.
The city pulses,
nervous with sirens,
the weather for tonight:
thunderheads of the spine,
drumrolls
in the reptilian complex.
Leviticus
Am That I Am burns a bush,
Cold flame, shrub of veins;
Lamb with seven horns & eyes
Savors a bed of flesh coals,
Fretting leprosy in fire,
Incense of screams, sentient offering;
Laps bullock blood & dung,
Demanding carcasses for idols,
Rams for sin, kids of goats
Stripped to the spine for Trinity;
Host of Hosts down on His knees,
Slurping gristle, rump, fat of the innards.
How He loves the little children.
Cold flame, shrub of veins;
Lamb with seven horns & eyes
Savors a bed of flesh coals,
Fretting leprosy in fire,
Incense of screams, sentient offering;
Laps bullock blood & dung,
Demanding carcasses for idols,
Rams for sin, kids of goats
Stripped to the spine for Trinity;
Host of Hosts down on His knees,
Slurping gristle, rump, fat of the innards.
How He loves the little children.
© Gary Carson 2012
Gary Carson is the author of the apocalyptic thrillers Hot Wire and Phase Four, both available from Amazon and BlastedHeath.com. His short stories have appeared in Hardluck Stories, Noir Originals, and the 2009 Thuglit anthology, "Sex, Thugs and Rock & Roll." He edits and writes for The Ancient World Review (http://www.ancientworldreview.com) and Ominous Planet (http://www.ominousplanet.com), and his writer's site can be found at http://www.gacarson.com.
But Heaven’s only a switchback
ReplyDeleteIn this here to there stream
Of iron slang and rocking Pullmans,
And we are the weather of railroads,
Just blowing through.
Fabulous singing swinging lines. You can feel the wind.