Just a little shy of the
Mountain-naked witch hour
She comes, full pelt,
Throttles locked wide open
As never before: headin’
For the tunnel that
Between sky-guy poles,
Screaming Satan’s-geyser steam stream,
Trailin’ a rope of blacker-than-moonshade
Spark riveted, nightblood smoke.
Followin’ a hole drilled by Cyclops-eye lantern
Bolted on high and black front stack.
The one-way, bound for Glory Roads,
Heavy-haul, mother-monster loco
Pounds down the infinity track,
Steel elbows rhythm-greased,
On the strings of music
Birthed in the wires.
Some souls headin’ for Perdition,
Some with tickets for Paradise.