The streets are me broken chains of thought in the company of whistles and horns a subway below sidewalks of people fishing for space between crosswalks while a guitar and sax play songs for quarters and dimes all beneath a sun and clouds forming shade and shadows as the engine is motion  


      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


There’s a mirror that reveals the truth and an hour glass with a voice.  Dripping water tells the story, where long tracks hide distant whistles.  In the background the earth groans and the trees are its gray hairs. There’s a feast on the table, on the other side of the best door.  It’s improbable to … More SAFE COMFORT