Tuesday, June 29, 2010

train 28

that’s the date in June 2010.
i want to differentiate
cause see i’ve talked of trains before.
in absolute way quiet three a.m.
that’s when they come, you know.

with first a subtle vibration in the tracks
from twelve to fifteen states away.
then i got up ate, slept and ate and drank and slept again.
three days later Goliath Machine approaches town,

of course total darkness.
not a star out tonight,
they only come like that, at night you know.
steam rolling vibrational thunder.

with a whistle
a warning
hear it

You there
I mean you
Take warning - Watch yourself,
I am coming.

shakes ducks eggs in the marsh
corn kernels rattle off cobs in the fields
and homes from their basements trough foundations vi-
god o’ mighty it’s Heavy Metal son of a bitch
clobbering everything.

i’m three blocks away from the tracks
and total down to dust destruction,
every home, bird’s nest and dog house
tween here and there destroyed
by the merciless rattling shakathon.

yet, like a mystery,
sleep comes,
deep mellowing sleep.

and then magically
when first bird tweets,
all is rebuilt by dawn,
everything, up and down the streets,

including fillings, crowns and molars replaced
and neighborhood groundhogs back in their burrows,
robins eggs return to their nests,
no cracks in the sidewalks, no more.

all is well again, healed by sight
of first morning light
when i awake and go to the window
and look out that way
to see what happened.

Monday, June 28, 2010

summer storm

summer humid, you can't believe.
oven hot and closet still.
something brewing west,
thick heavy sky darkness rolling.

rain races, beating, hail, high wind - boom,
lightning cracks a quarter mile away.
what’s hit’s on fire
or gone blown to hell now, i’d say.

half hour later, all’s still again,
a bit cooler, lone wren cries loud,
accounting for it's family.
with that we’ll end the day, show’s over.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

talking to oneself

talking to oneself,
i did it today,
and know when i say
that’s not what it is at all.

it is speaking to the spirit
of friend or loved one,
absent for the moment
by a nick in time.