Power Plant in Asgard

Posted by Erik Moshe on Thursday, September 5, 2013 Under: Poetry

Night time is refuge for the energy-reclusive
solar powered firewalkers, physiques complemented
by starlight's Carmichael driven off the edge
of the wrong road at the wrong hour of the dark
this scene, diminished by the tertiary devices of a new sun
knows that many snooze during important eclipses
A full moon is not a bronze coin
cash it in if you’d like (dunesday discount rates apply)
exchange it for the ecstasy of a desert highway ride
full tank of gasoline planet - knuckles full of river water
passengers seated in black holes
Saturn’s ringworm children, tired from a day of repeated
jettisoning them from their nurseries, with a labor contract
lunar colony headdresses, hand sewn,
hang from the jaws of a cave mage, like djinn braids
dipped in oak wine, as liberated hands and wrists join
merging urban areas in Asgard,
slowly making thunderclouds harvest-worthy
available for any argonaut farmer with the will to grow
sound the sirens, sign upon the dwindling harps
hold your saucepans like wieldable anvils (brutes)
in winter scuffles, crush dissension with a refreshing sip
of an empirical tonic fit for a wicked king
its consistency, the same color as greed
that Pluto’s currency has long surpassed hyperinflation
and this sea of repulsive otherworldliness
Is enough to make a newborn Odin flinch
even here, renewable resources are far flung!
A mothership stranded in uncharted orphan plateau
searching for its origins in an airship-riddled sky

In : Poetry 

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