The Old Train
The train took off
With the squeaks of
100% superheated rust.
Then it jerked as
if in the delivery room
following the sounds of push.
The caboose feeling or
Knowing that it would be
Phased out, flipped side to side.
Who cares about the
Squeaking, jerking train?
The man with the lamp.
The lamplighter and all the
Memories flying out of the
Windows wish this ride
Were the last.
Reading Billy Collins or Bukowski or Sharon Olds Is like watching Ted Williams hit or Steve Jobs sell a concept or Larry Bird see the court or Steven Hawking think.…
Fallow Ground
If I could swim The pool Of tears That our sun Let out to dry Or hear a wind Thru her…sail Deep into The night I would measure Each wild…
Poetry
At twilight, the fishes are retreating To the distant depth, like an ocean They are sure of disappearance with all The effort being made. There is no more Jumping out…
