A TRIPTYCH OF SALAMANDERS
                                     A Poem
                                By W.C. Leadbeater

                                        1

          I am a Slime-thing
          a Rootboy; hair, natty dread
          A dreadlock Congo bongo I
          My arms are saurian tentacles
          My testicles are sore from ejaculating,
          I am a cosmicomic book character
          I move on cat's feet; iron claws

                                        2

          I dream highway dreams, the motorway drifting
          Suspended by anti-grav spheres
          AG is silver in the distant glow of twin moons
          Eclipse
          All things decay, but the Ouspenskian autobahn
          Drifts forever above the remains of a ruined city
          Where pterodactyls dwell; eggs hidden in infamy
          When they hatch they will begin a new generation of dragons
          & the Old Magician will kill them with his night-saber
          I drift in seas of darkness as the autobahn carries me
          AG spheres twinkling in the night
          Which falls over all the Living...
          & the Dying cyborgs
          Androids infertile looking for clones
          They've already cloned the Raven
          & the Green Lion follows in the shadow of a Serpent
          The Salamander died ages ago
          In a vat of magnetic fluid
          Now he has been crucified upon a rose cross
          & the Phoenix rises from the ashes
          In an alchemist's cauldron
          This is the alchemy of the mind:  
          Transmutation
          Change
          Growth
          Evolution

                                        3

          A haunted sepulcher:  Trinity of Serpents
          A late summer's Eve casting shadows over the dragon's lair
          The dragon reclining in repose
          A sacrificial virgin
          Rescued by the Knight's firm, velvety probing
          & frigid Night-Blasphemy, Silken Satans & Sin-Visitations
          Now the Dragon is gone & his lair is haunted
          It will remain a Skull-place
          As long as he is remembered
          But memory tarries not 
          Until the Egg She has laid hatches

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