Month: March 2020

He was not a train
but still, every tunnel
seemed to bear his name,
and guiding him through,
the light that was waiting
glowed steady and true

We are marked by the stars,
our hearts held
in their glorious sweep
across the black sky.

What space is this
taking the page
with printed noise
that has not a word
of substance to speak.

Do not say he was a good man
who carried the fire in his hand,
who loved his wife and children
and sweated for the land,
for we know all is dust and distance
in the orbit of planets and stars
so say more than hollow words,
say your heart,
say your cracked and broken heart.

They speak of a love unspoken,
they fall to the earth
on a path of light
but we never see where they land.

We are drowning
in the wrong
that has become our right
and we are dragged by the current,
down the river to the ocean
and we cannot touch the bottom anymore.

he rested
in the light of the full moon
on the street corner,
lay his cheek
on the smooth curve
of the aching sky
and bled deeply
as the shooting stars
cut his breath in two.

Millstones are sinking,
shadows stalk
the empty places,
the kingdom
is written across
the children’s faces.

I hear the sound of the diesel locomotive
casting thunder on the steel lines
that run side by side
though the tunnel of my hollow heart;
the echo of its whistle
is soon lost in the distance
between us.

Come sit with me a while
and watch the moon peer
from behind the cloud
and turn the sky
to silver and gold.