Wednesday, August 5, 2009

The Complexes of Gehenna

That vast and the black stretches
beyond the weakness of the light's play
A silence of depth, so boundless
as to be a leonine roar of absent sound
These wanton cries of Abaddon, terrible
in their compulsion, and loneliness
Forgotten in the works beneath the stone
where the pipes and tunnels of men run
unto ends where the picked tunnel comes
to ruin in the unknowable definitions
between worked stone and Earth gaped wide
A great work abandoned, and un-wrought
by the smashing weight of miles of rock, tumbled upon
the emptiness of man's will, the hollow drifts
crumbled to water and the Earth's relaxations
One meets the other and disappears into their forces
Whether Earth's own pocket or vast stope
toil and tectonics come to a whole
so far beyond reckoning
Where now I stand, solid footed above the howling
vast and empty rooms and halls
in the complexes of Gehenna


Anonymous said...

Back in the 80's I had a summer job exploring abandoned mines in Idaho and Washington.

Toxic gases, dead animals, falling rock, cryptic historical data, elusive mineral deposits and - of course - the obligatory alcoholic co-worker, made every day an adventure.

I loved that job. Thanks for the trip back.

Nagrom said...

That sounds like an amazing job.

Thank you - Poetry is already something that can mean very different things to the reader than the author, and this is obscure enough I didn't know if anyone would "get it". Glad to know someone does.