Blind River as in Taughannock

20041209-1212

0.
wires cut,
valves shut,
oil bled.
1.
Open acceleration
in neutral revolution:
poisonous empty torque.

Trusting rusting fixtures
exploding joints of transit
causing pausing, lapse in motion.

Shift lever severed
bodily from smokey tranny
turkey baster survival.

Shag seat swelling
metal dwelling odyssey
dipped in Huron's shameful eye.

Decision choking pancakes,
Leviathon traction breakdown
beyond bastard boyhood boxcar.

That Checkov French demise parlays
a day's Molotov sunrise,
Maple Leaf jersey cadets.

2.
Pourling, mewling, cooling presence,
spiral lightning lighting,
Bainbridge motor lawman.

Missing pissing mountain,
leaking sickly cooking coolant,
licking legacy tears.

Final sneezing weezer
in cage'd trees, a terror
screaming Pittsburg finish.

Nineteen hour surgeon:
Nails and radiator virgin
sinking unsuccessful thinking.

Doctor spake of seizure,
pleasure plunging lack of leisure
tripled dollar godsend.

Stolen golden mallard
mercantile donor mile
shining Chrysler boneyard.

X.
Gears meet from my addiction,
may their greaseless, ceasing friction
when expired
warm my tired,
tired mind.



ANNOTATION: I lost a lot of cars in college in some very stressful and upsetting situations. I wrote this when my new Ford Ranger started getting weird gremlins (which I figure out, three months after I traded it in, were probably due to the ignition switch). I did change the last line, which read "soul" rather than mind, because "soul" poems are superstitious, nonexistent bullshit. It's like writing about banshees or angels or aliens or compassionate conservatives.

Posted by das at December 9, 2004 12:12 PM | TrackBack