Ode to Victory
Steel and rain-splattered chrome
Shield the gyroscopic Dharma Wheels
That just keep on spinning,
Keeping me Upright,
Flying through the air.
I am Sonic
My dominion is the horizon
Between desire, destination and the rumbling between my thighs.
My engine is as powerful as my mind.
As strong as 80 Horses that pull me over this curve of Earth.
Victory, you succumb to my hands,
And the shift of my weight on your saddle
We are living gravity together:
Whitman’s body-electric,
Just beneath the ***** aroma of engine oil and gasoline.
Riding on the back of the California black striped serpent
From San Diego to Santa Rosa
To the very edge of madness
And back again,
Victory, you deliver me from myself,
You growl when I awaken you in the morning,
Nearly choking on your petrol cough.
Occasionally, you sputter complaints at me when I ride you up that hill
But your joy at reaching the summit
Is the sweet surrender to a gravity we both crave.
Victory, your piercing gaze illuminates the night.
All fog of air & mind flee desperate before your flight.
You are the clear sky after the rain: the clarity before thought or rhyme
Our momentum keeps us running ahead,
Out of reach, of God and death and time.
©Igor Goldkind 2017
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 5:13 PM UTC
Ode to Victory
Steel and rain-splattered chrome
Shield the gyroscopic Dharma Wheels
That just keep on spinning,
Keeping me Upright,
Flying through the air.
I am Sonic
My dominion is the horizon
Between desire, destination and the rumbling between my thighs.
My engine is as powerful as my mind.
As strong as 80 Horses that pull me over this curve of Earth.
Victory, you succumb to my hands,
And the shift of my weight on your saddle
We are living gravity together:
Whitman’s body-electric,
Just beneath the ***** aroma of engine oil and gasoline.
Riding on the back of the California black striped serpent
From San Diego to Santa Rosa
To the very edge of madness
And back again,
Victory, you deliver me from myself,
You growl when I awaken you in the morning,
Nearly choking on your petrol cough.
Occasionally, you sputter complaints at me when I ride you up that hill
But your joy at reaching the summit
Is the sweet surrender to a gravity we both crave.
Victory, your piercing gaze illuminates the night.
All fog of air & mind flee desperate before your flight.
You are the clear sky after the rain: the clarity before thought or rhyme
Our momentum keeps us running ahead,
Out of reach, of God and death and time.
©Igor Goldkind 2017
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