his train of thoughts
carried his mind
wandering into different places
feeling so divine

a world which turned
hallelujahs been gone
an enemy has returned
stop it— I'm done.

Hesitantly at first,
It stutters before
Being forced open
By an impatient passenger;
The doors of a train.

My baby passed away
And now I'm feeling blue
My baby passed away
And now I'm feeling blue
I thought she'd be my baby, but she has
Other plans

She hopped aboard a train
And now she's riding West
She hopped aboard a train
And now she's riding West
She said don't do it
Don't buy a ticket

My love's gone forever
Buried six feet deep
My love's gone forever
Six feet underneath
Oh, how she's the death of me
Way she says never

Look- the train of thought!
An unexpected turn left.
Wait, what was I saying?

We came but our children have barely time
for us for they are leading busy lives.
When we were younger we had barely time
for us for we were leading busy lives.
How it passes: like the train that brought us,
winding but with purposeful direction.
How it passes: like steam above tea cups,
a gently rising evaporation.
We had tea with the widow of our son.
Our train returns home early. Life goes on.

Train horns pierce the muggy night.
Persistent in their cacophony.
They shake the walls and sound the time.
Like midnight roosters.

I shift beneath my stuffy sheets.
Roused from fitful sleep.
My eyes move to the bedroom window.
Drawn to the alure of night.

The moonlight has me in a trance.
Stray beams beckon me.
Dancing light to call me closer.
Through intermittent haze.

Now I feel the fog behind my eyes.
The night's hold has loosened.
I drift away until I'm awoken by birds,
Or the siren songs of boxcars.

books written in symbols
were attempts to mimic the language of the heart

somewhere i jotted within an admission of love

i wonder who knew it first
and how profound it could be when it was there the whole time

~

i find myself at Union Station,
where people pass time sitting silently in pews.

closing doors kick a breeze that weaves between the columns
holding up the heavens
the hair on my arm waves like wheat stalks

i’ve got a hunch i could go just about anywhere from here

the halls here just go on and on.
it’s not the whole world, but it’s the only place i want to be.

A lost hungry vagrant
on a train to nowhere
everywhere's his home

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

     on a patch of hay
     in the heat of day
     he doesn't bother to get
     on his knees and pray

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIII
      
          everything he wants
          is in his sweat and blood
          the shirt on his back
          and his matter of fact

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

                                     ­          no one can touch his
                                               solitary freedom
                                               even when burdened with chains
                                               and in heavy rains

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIII

                    he flies through time
                    known by himself
                    on a patch of hay

III🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

        in an empty, lonely cart
        on a train to nowhere
        wandering the face of the earth

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

yearning for Starlight💫