time pilot

i am
the wind, i am
a white knife slicing
through skies burnt purple
by the heat of machine guns
and fly-by-wire missiles.

i slide like a warm blade
through ranks of biplanes,
the spray of my bullets
cutting them free of the sky
and i emerge
on the other side of the line.

like a bad moon
a fat black zeppelin rises
and i fly at its canvas throat
like a thrown knife.
i tear it to pieces.

my plane gleams
in the light of the fire,
untouched amongst
the canvas tatters -
a machine, the terrible dream
of perpetual energy made real.
a white light flashes, the cockpit
and i am off
to the future
and a darker sky.

i am
invicible, not even time
can stop me.