Two years ago, during the late, January nights of 2009, I spent many hours in front of the computer composing poetry in the digital company of Martin Abel. These were still the early days of our friendship, and we were both discovering our desire to inspire the other with our respective crafts. Learning of a shared intense interest in the steampunk genre, several of those early poems centered around the surging might of complex mechanisms and the thrill they could bring to man’s power-seeking heart. One in particular stood out to us both, and still does to this day. While it has always been our intent to turn this into a short illustrated work, for now only the words exist, iron bones awaiting copper skin. We both hope that the opportunity will arise in the future to carry out our original vision, but in the meantime I give you my half of what was almost our first official collaboration.

“The Machinist”

This is my lab, my workshop,
My private world of peace,
Filled with cogs and gears
Full of grime and grease.

Black soot covers the walls
And gray ash litters the floor,
Byproducts of mad mother science,
That grand desire to build evermore!

Master plans lie on tables,
Corners flat with spare parts.
They hold tomorrow’s secrets,
The keys to iron hearts.

But front and center’s the thing,
My great ambition made true.
It lies beneath blackened cloth,
Hidden from world’s view.

But now the time has come
For my opus to be revealed.
At long last the door will open
That was so tightly sealed.

So pull back that cloth,
Behold the great machine!
See its clockwork guts,
The most complex you’ve ever seen!

Ignite the main boiler!
The lever’s right there.
Witness the grand genius
I’ve wrought in my lair!

Hear the pressure building,
And see the pistons engage!
Smell its belching smoke,
Feel the steam god’s rage!

There’s no stopping the future;
The wheels are set in motion!
The world will now revolve
On vapored locomotion!