The Road to Necropolis is a poem I gleaned from the current novel I’m working on. Initially, the poem and the novel came from a dream. I actually dreamed I was dead and awoke walking along a sidewalk.
The imagery is surreal–as it was in the dream. I hope to retain that quality throughout the novel, but it’s difficult to keep that kind of atmosphere through 90,000 words.
I will post an excerpt from the novel soon. [gulp…] Maybe.
A train comes. On a wet road only the dead know.
Dark and shiny with flickers of unseen things.
Eye corner glimmers.
A jumping orange cat attempting
To cross the barrier to life.
Away from the empty lot it lives on.
A bus comes.
Loud and roaring–like the train.
Blue electric and tons of metal.
House shades drawn closed like lids
Of the dead in empty homes,
Line this road.
This road. The only road there is
White-faced death extends a hand,
“We will ascend.”
The staircase at the end of this street,
Like a beacon, makes a way
To the ticket office.
A train-bus comes.
It is on the way–