semaphore

the rails run through
various landscapes, coal and rock
scattered all along the route;
  unscrewed double helix
demarcating an occasional
 steel and iron  river, positing
divide. one side from another.
wrong side. right side.
grandaddy worked them when
they were relevant, unionized,
arisen  from swampland,
varicose veins running across pine hammock
an ache in each lonesome whistle .
these days they snarl traffic
the occasional morning
lowering red or black
 and white  striped  arms
 holding cars at bay
stronger than a riot police line;
 or wail ghostly and far away
  mild late nights
through open windows.







*(*





gabrielle was given his first job
at infancy, just as the whole thing began.
maybe a mote of millions coalesces into a now
maybe dinos live with humans after all
the timing is irrelevant. full blown,
authentic, he grasped the weapons
in both hands,  appeared before the fallen,
 banishing ,with golden flame, re entry..
  thus   fire between  crevasses to the east
and west, limits light, closes confidence
looses the demons of blindness.





*(***


i'm trying to find mythos
in the daily, trying to majik
a word back to mystic.
granddaddy worked the rails.
great great granny was raped
and pillaged by them.-two different
kinds of work, but capitalism
got its rocks off both ways.
a black and red stripe
runs over  wall street's spine
its peaks and valleys a demarcation
for exploitation.

i want to reverse the mythos, give
the apes back to the jungle
put the swordblade towards the kings neck.
keep the iron bull on the track
segregated, limited, later.