train poems
Red orchard branches,
red, for winter
A long tired
afternoon light
White barn
glowing pink
in the sunset
----
Inside the cold winter earth
the moist clay roots are
moving imperceptibly;
To me something like
birth and also death.
----
Crossing the desert again
I am surprised I have forgotten
how people live in America:
Heaters, coolers, cars
Shopping centers-
Lowes and Target
This day our daily bread.
----
That long green murmur
that creeps over the land
after the first winter rain
is somehow my own spirit
leaping up there.
I am astonished by
this quickening.
red, for winter
A long tired
afternoon light
White barn
glowing pink
in the sunset
----
Inside the cold winter earth
the moist clay roots are
moving imperceptibly;
To me something like
birth and also death.
----
Crossing the desert again
I am surprised I have forgotten
how people live in America:
Heaters, coolers, cars
Shopping centers-
Lowes and Target
This day our daily bread.
----
That long green murmur
that creeps over the land
after the first winter rain
is somehow my own spirit
leaping up there.
I am astonished by
this quickening.
posted by angela at 10:01 PM
1 Comments:
I'm just righting right now because of the title of your writing. I will read forward and hope you will want me to comment.
Train is something I love
the idea of a lot of people safe in a narrow world traveling somewhere together just has momentary accent of lovely
I want a 3 way phone conversation with you and E
I would hope it could be recorded and entered into the active archives.
all that I own is going fluid
going elsewhere and with who I
don't know
I think you might get mugged for what you might bring back to your cities.
so
marc@nestofthephoenix.net
apprentice event schedulers arise
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