a vision

December 19, 2012
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behind the heavy doors of sleep
escaped wandering through swatches of magenta air
the parted found the whole and melted
into lumps of solid gold
beneath alien trees on alien moons in alien skies
beneath familiar windows and alien goodbyes
in crashing waves and whalesong they arrived
angry gods we have created and denied and then tricked into dying
found me and pressed me into ice wine with their hammers
made me account for all I’d done
but I could think of nothing
nothing but the nothing I’d become

first I saw the animals
thick ropes at their necks straining against the worlds they’re forced to pull
groaning and braying and speaking in tongues
their paths endless and flat
as I rode on their backs into war
I saw Jesus in the desert eating sand from the palm of his hand
and did not call to him as we lumbered past
still I heard him say to me
this is right; this is real
we eat the skin from the bottom of our boots and march on
we march on
I saw the cities of the future tumbling forever through kaleidoscopes
and sideways watched them gyrate into dust
Jazz Age ladies swung their cigarettes at me
from one direction to the next I tasted burning smoke
only the old men knew what to do;
they let their frail bodies be consumed
by the tidal waves of time machine tomorrows
barely I eluded them, following footprints back into the rain
raised my face and asked if I was finished yet
but I heard nothing
nothing but the nothing I’d become

the deepest dark is that of your own body
the lowest level is the one I crawl
long perfect fingers stretched through years of tunnels
aching endlessly
pressed up against the walls
and at the end I saw you standing in the static
as I have in other visions, one thousand times before
you raised your arms
in false surrender
raised your voice
in gentle timbre
howling helplessly and finally

“I came—

I am—

you’ve conquered”

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Mckay This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Apr. 23, 2013 at 2:41 pm
Ok. Ok. I had to read this a couple of times. First, I must say it reminds me a bit of Allen Ginsberg's "Howl," altough I'm sure—or at least think, you weren't on LSD while you wrote this; it's also not as graphic as "Howl". Hmmm...I'm really somewhat stuck in some way as to what to poem really means. But due to a couple of lines, I'm thinking this poem is the somewhat endless journey we call Life. For example in stanze II the last three lines: &... (more »)
MyApocalyptic This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Apr. 23, 2013 at 6:10 pm
YES. I put forth a challenge worthy of the Great Mckay. (high fives self) This poem is based basically exactly on a very vivid, triptastic dream I once had. I don't quite know what it means, but I woke up reeling and spent the day writing. Certainly I knew Allen was behind me the whole way, muttering, crazed, in my ear what my dream might have meant. The first movement was my entrance into my sleep-world (upside-down, magenta, full of frightening giants and rememberances). The second mov... (more »)
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