Tag Archives: creative writing

Trains

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Trains

1

In the marrowbone of night,
your song parts the fog.

I never knew the secrets entrusted there.

I never knew that cinders and steel
could lie so passionately

and still believe that the watchman’s hours
would evaporate and leave us scratching for more.

I have stolen time.

The windows remain closed and shuttered.
Even the wind turns away.

The track narrows.

You call.

Again.

2

Sometimes song seems the only respite,
the rhythm of clashing cars

and moments stretched beyond the next bend
to that point where light winks out.

We both know this lonely tunnel.

Payment is due.

I have always exited alone.

3

Another evening, and red smoke completes the horizon.

Your ribs stretch for distance,
and while I cannot see their end,
I know by sound
their lot.

Sing for me.
It is not
too close.

 

“Trains” was originally published in Lightning’d Press (Issue 8) in Spring of 2014, was reprinted on Aubade Rising in April, 2015, and was posted here in June 2016. It is also included in my chapbook, If Your Matter Could Reform.

track

To That Dismal Train Somewhere Near Banff

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To That Dismal Train Somewhere Near Banff

Forgotten, you settle into the earth,
naming stones for each destination missed –
Kamloops, Jasper, Lake Louise – which is worth
each open-mouthed coin laid on the rail, kissed

and reformed into altered currency
no longer capable of carrying
debt or a tourist’s sense of urgency,
only dying days and the wearying

plight of the unmoved. If vines caress your
body, who’s to blame for accepting their
advances? When green subsumes rust, deplore
that too, but enjoy the moments you share,

leaf on metal and glass, the raspy light
tonguing your throat through those long, whistling nights.

The Loneliness of the Last

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The Loneliness of the Last

Always exposed, never sharing the comfort
of between, you see only the departed

diminishing with each second’s passage, blurring,
shrinking, and finally blinking out, all points

erased in the null, an eye closing in the tunnel.
Or, inhaling the fragrance of an unseen orange

grove filtered through coal and thick, black
coils, you accept the limits of possibility,

known only by edges flowing past, lost
to touch and forever beyond reach in the draft

of the inadmissible. Departure defines
you. What lies ahead is not yours to embrace.

* * *

“The Loneliness of the Last” was published as a mini-broadside by ELJ Editions in February 2017.

Loneliness

“Trem Abandonado” by Rafael Vianna Croffi
(https://www.flickr.com/photos/rvc/29472173566)

 

Poem Up at MockingHeart Review

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I’m delighted that my poem “This Island is a Stone” has been published in the latest issue of MockingHeart Review. I am grateful to editor Clare Martin for accepting this piece.

Incongruities

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Years ago, I worked in a library…

Incongruities

so little depends
upon

the half-Japanese
bookman

reading Italian
haiku

in the Texas
library.

Once again, my apologies to William Carlos Williams, whose poetry inspires and therefore often bears the brunt of my little diversions into whimsy. “Incongruities” first appeared here in October 2015. The original WCW poem can be found here.

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Scarecrow Popped Up in Los Angeles

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I learned early this morning that my poem “Scarecrow Calls Out the Man” had been reprinted again, this time by CityWatch, a publication out of LA devoted to politics, perspectives and participation. I’m thrilled that Scarecrow’s voice is resonating…

Scarecrow on COMMON DREAMS

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I was delighted to see my poem “Scarecrow Calls Out the Man” reprinted on the progressive, non-profit journalism site Common Dreams and that the heading of the “Further” column, “The Smallness of You,” is extracted from the poem.

Read the column here.

Scarecrow is indeed getting around.

 

Journal Publications (March – May 2017)

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Links to my publications, March – May 2017.

West Texas Literary Review
“Gulf”

Quiet Letter
“Memory and Closets”
“Strollermelon”
“Cutting Down the Anniversary Pine”

LCk Publishing
Sault St. Marie

Rat’s Ass Review
“Sensing My Dismay at the Election Results, My Wife’s Dog Presses against Me”

La Presa
“Even the Light”

Oxidant|Engine
“When to Say Goodbye“

GFT Presents: One in Four
“Scarecrow Believes”
“The Boy Who Wouldn’t Hoe Corn”

Life among the Prickly Pear

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Life among the Prickly Pear

Rain’s twofold curse: not enough
too much. Still, I take comfort

even among the thorns.
There is much to like here.

Its moonlight flowers.
Paddles fried with minced garlic.

Wren’s jubilant shriek.
The fruit’s red nectar.

I wake to distant screech owls
purring their desires on separate

slopes. Late spring, storms looming.
I close my eyes and the creek rises.

* * *

A draft of this first appeared here in June 2015, and I posted this version in May 2016. It seemed appropriate to this stormy weekend. On a personal note, I’ll need to inspect a flood-prone creek on Monday. I wonder how it will be…

In the meantime, two of my guitar heroes: