(untitled) -- a collection of experimental poetry [COMPLETE]

returning through a storm

we rode
across the midnight Volga
blindly skipping over
broken waves

in the darkness
and the pounding rain -
we saw
jack
shit

then,
the sky erupted into
snowstorm magma,
lightning burst
and
we were now
a limping lightning rod
in a
a vast and boat-less
space

the neck-deep
swamp of quicksand
night
fell and stumbled
into pangs
of day

and all around,
the silent threads
of molten death
tangled and
untangled
onto earth:
as portals
into strange dimensions
beyond the
splintered sky

and we knew,
the four of us knew -
huddled in that
wet and fragile place,
we felt the phantom
breath of that
Aztec snake
that could've
crushed us
into ash

never was a night so
beautiful,
never was the rain so
sweet.