EntUrTrainity
A waking sleep, the lovely soft fur of the cat
the mixed gathering Of day-colliding-night
in the red depths of mingled wines
And drops of pure Burning heart distilled
No colour but only passion
remained.
The journey morphed into me. The long tracks of melded steel that rushed along the passages of wind
Falling gears like rainbow sealed in particled shapes, revolving links in a disjunctive chain
Rushed uncertain into coherence- the passing of energy into a driving force.
─ I am a train─
Phantom cars dragging in the heat behind me while faceward bitter cold
opposed motion.
Standing, seeking mine, on some mountain of man-heaped construct,
looking, down on a vista of gyrating tracks.
The narrow leap aside from hurtling freight monster as it howls by and my cars
huddle frightened, behind, intimidated.
The need to find the groove where accordioned tensed possibility might unfold
and process, the comforting path home.
Conscious of my tailing awkwardness,
Came upon pedestrian wanderers, in search of
Charon’s currency, please, they say: just a ticket home?
Confused.
I tried to explain the dilemma.
Trains need tracks. I couldn’t find mine.
They laughed and told me I was drunk and shouldn’t be driving.
A waking sleep, the lovely soft fur of the cat
the mixed gathering Of day-colliding-night
in the red depths of mingled wines
And drops of pure Burning heart distilled
No colour but only passion
remained.
The journey morphed into me. The long tracks of melded steel that rushed along the passages of wind
Falling gears like rainbow sealed in particled shapes, revolving links in a disjunctive chain
Rushed uncertain into coherence- the passing of energy into a driving force.
─ I am a train─
Phantom cars dragging in the heat behind me while faceward bitter cold
opposed motion.
Standing, seeking mine, on some mountain of man-heaped construct,
looking, down on a vista of gyrating tracks.
The narrow leap aside from hurtling freight monster as it howls by and my cars
huddle frightened, behind, intimidated.
The need to find the groove where accordioned tensed possibility might unfold
and process, the comforting path home.
Conscious of my tailing awkwardness,
Came upon pedestrian wanderers, in search of
Charon’s currency, please, they say: just a ticket home?
Confused.
I tried to explain the dilemma.
Trains need tracks. I couldn’t find mine.
They laughed and told me I was drunk and shouldn’t be driving.
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