Ziggurat

The station wagon nose pointed at the sky,
The fates hopefully know I’m too fat to lie.

I moved up the bridge, the engine growing hot.
I was driving up the mountain that stands by

Those forgotten Jack pines and their knowing hands,
Smacking the snow-drunk wind tit-for-tat, when I

Felt the top tip back over our heads. We were
Dead. We were falling up and flat, the sigh

Of metal lost in rocks that tumbled from the
Night, calling us, climb the ziggurat and die.

 

The above ghazal also inspired the following electronic track on my Le Prof album “Aleatoria”:

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