THAT WAY

before evening there’s an afternoon asleep   a recipe of gathering, irresponsibility   street corners the city breathes then exhales a boxcar moaning steel   old faces disturbed that youth is wasted as age burns the fire out then points to the past laughing infrequently wondering what’s left   digging into empty pockets   going … More THAT WAY

CASUALLY MOVING

deep river an undisturbed surface an inner turbulence   a train without stop the collision of waters the movement of stones and debris, sheltered until exiled to a new under surface   depths without light silt from unnamed layers a force casually breaking everything and all things in the path, not in anger just the … More CASUALLY MOVING

TRYING TO GET OUT

There’s rain in the desert where lizards and one eyed dogs live on the wrong side of the tracks and bars with tired neon’s blink onto cactus and sand where nothing comes alive except lightening and dry winds as we try for the right way leaving behind what tries to hold us back in the … More TRYING TO GET OUT

TO ANOTHER PLACE

There are many roads some with my name in the dust others I forgot like the place I’m from   boxcars like the likes of me no favorites just moving through storms and deserts   open land is the power of silence the spreading of alone where road signs collide suggesting the start of what … More TO ANOTHER PLACE

ONE STAR DINER

Its on the edge of the desert   an open door welcomes the thirsty and the curious   ashtrays full of last nights words and crushed hearts where leather jackets and quarters keep the juke box breathing   passing freight trains push a melody to someplace   where truckers kill time until the coffee turns … More ONE STAR DINER

BEEN THERE

Thru all the corners past clothes lines pointing east and west   a pocket full of matchbooks badges from towns passed through, never stayed long   traveled in open boxcars with men wearing hats cowboy boots faded jeans standing like kings overlooking the land   passed over 10,000 streets not one name remembered  

POUNDING WATER

A muddy river, thick with silt, half trees and trash, flows slowly past the city, slipping under bridges, competing with barges, rolling through like in dreams when you feel your running underwater. Docks and spits of land reach out at the passing debris; bulldogs inspecting their next meal. Stone legs from a train overpass push … More POUNDING WATER

MEMORY GHOST

      Railroad Avenue. Cinders and broken glass. Warm engines blowing smoke. Old men with hats, suspenders, stained work boots and pants. Great stories of Louisiana bayous, marshlands, mountains and oceans. Empty freight cars transporting lost souls and homeless dreams. Wooden platforms, benches carved with names.  Trackside families. Steady work. Scars and sweat. Creosote … More MEMORY GHOST

WHICH WAY

Dogs barking, children in an abandoned lot.  Their game interrupted by a dispute. Small towns hold its players close, leaving little room to maneuver away from the center.  Girls look at magazines, shopping for images. Young men sweat with strength, struggling with self as they search beyond the package of where they are.  An old … More WHICH WAY

AN EMPTY SEAT

It’s a train car without wheels. A gathering for the subculture.  An information center of new and yet to happen. It’s a stopover between this and that.  Art deco, vinyl and stainless steel.  Formica countertops and a bathroom without a lock. A jukebox with failed neon’s struggles in the corner.  Eggs and coffee all day. … More AN EMPTY SEAT