Posts tagged ‘trains’

January 26, 2018

waiting for the green line train at west bank station in the snow and cold and heat around 4:36 p.m.

the smell of a late afternoon lunch
enough, enough for snow to melt
imagining debt without a time clock
or vise versa–in some time only fixated…
dusting between keys on a keyboard, jet black
creating something like this, and that, unnoticed unawares
moby-dick for meaning of meaningful meaning
they tell me i have books to pick up
some stand on the shelves like straight soldiers
some crack like and egg in my hand at breakfast
they tell me have a good weekend & we just got over the flu
google will better my photo of West Bank, only soon
words won’t come so easy after that tune
some things just look better in digital format
i will wait for the train, again, here
amongst people who wait for the train, again, here
praising not having to wait for her, once were
wondering what’s in that guys hand, that guys bag
no one puts things on the floor anymore
picking up my little man
waiting for another to arrive–O’ plans: we had
and he asked me what i was eating as if it were bad
i told him what and who made it, of course
man my stomach was starting to feel good just then
thought this before the train came.

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February 26, 2015

Bakken through Minneapolis

Night black as Bakken
oil, which malignly pours past silent
communities,

shipped in cryptic-marked tanker cars
under cover of darkness, rightly
so, they move obtusely opaque—

opposite downtown lights which stick to a wetted haze
in the distance, making this Midwest city glow
for miles—some say 150 of them away.

The shit we’ve seen, and haven’t.

That which creeps along can be found in a jet, in
a car, or on foot,

in hardened
rock snow-crust, cold as a
flushed-toilet shower’s mist—you know; everything
is connected, retraced, unplugged,
tubed, tied, aborted,
and rewind.

Truths for lies:
This is safe,
This is fact,
This in fact is safe,
We care about you.

It is snug-up, or snug-down, or
just snug enough, or caught in between comfortable,
and I can’t go outside,
I have to decide.

Then it is: A pub visit, a flipped
switch, a lit door in the distance—these
palm trees have become foreigners
in desert sands which have turned to mud
by native rain power in your very living room
by way of: your very hand;

the vessel you hold,
repurposed from some ornate
decoration, from some ornate
description, from so-and-so’s ornate party,
or from some ornate magazine—ornate parts
of these

-Cult clubs.

And that is life:
black as night as petro ships by, as exhaust fumes fly,
as exhausted you sleeps, you snore, you don’t think;
as an “elected” official’s bank account goes cha-ching,
as a CEO draws outside of the lines, and talks energy.

(of course we need)

as the air goes in and out
of his mouth,
and in and out,
and in and out—

Like fucking, really.
Hey, you thought it. 🙂

Humans without a care,
they are there happily unawares.

With smiles on their dreaming faces,
as that napalm tube rolls on steel wheels in their backyards.

July 27, 2014

Things just concern me

Vote for Logic,
put Robots in Office.
Mandatory polygraph tests
for candidates assuming the role…
Don’t fret though,
I’m partial.

They say ‘follow the leader’,
and ‘to each their own’,
in unison,
broken record on dusty gramophone-that old.

Tupac and train-bridges,
Como and El-P,
at the corner market,
buy fluids then flee.

Child yet full-grown.
Can’t say won’t.

Rationality and realism postponed
… For gold,
by cold souls,
hard-truths thrown like stones,
you know.

One asks questions;
starts trouble,
causes problems,
-Iconoclast-
the ground rumbles,
and is labeled
Fast as on the double.

Then you forfeit all.
No more missed calls.

C’est la vie
“That’s Life”

Caught between wrong and right
and day and night;
and delight and plight.

I digress.

My friend,
I’m all right (spelled right).

Things just concern me.

May 15, 2014

Collecting Coins

Dirty Money,

Naked silver circle
Tainted coin’s crest

Some copper
Some not

Most Metallic
Voter’s voucher

Some cold
Some hot

-Some sticky when wet-

Some carry more meaning than others
Others need more cleaning than some

Moving them up and gone
Locating a seat I sit down

Some speckle the ground
As we move along.

June 14, 2013

Perspective From Under A Bridge, Part 1

You were a wrecked ruin too soon.

Our recent past was your now in comparison.

 

Your fair skin has been traded for peeling paint.

 

Steel to steal, scraps revealed, a rugged appeal.

 

Lastly, you sit… You remain; all around you has changed, the results of a capital war waged over tires and trains.

 

Lined wood soaked in creosote,

A shade of dark grey stays where rails once lay.

 

Cement legs that function, you stand your solid ground.

 

Above the river you hang, dark, dormant, and artfully quiet.

One has a hard time just walking by it.

 

History speaks volumes along the river’s edge on an early summer’s eve.

December 28, 2012

Christmas Train

On a train, in a lounge car, somewhere outside Winona Minnesota…

Thinking about moments and soda-and who is over my shoulder.

 

Another locomotive passes by; sound and light.

A moonless night shows no river.

 

Shrug off the thoughts, they don’t exist.

Shrug off the lost, its old business.

 

Traveling companions take a glimpse of what is, reflect and walk on.

 

No business on a trip like this.

 

Crumpled and out of place, like a Christmas wish list on the 26th.

 

The land speeds by, invisible to the eye.

 

What happened where I sit?

Did they learn from it?

Were they burned from it?

Was it realized?

 

The things we leave behind.

Out of sight, slightly out of mind.

 

Answer the question:

Affection is feeling not leaving.

 

I left on a train after dusk.

Winter days, winter months.

 

La Crosse is just lust, and what you find while looking for flesh.

Nothing meaningful, sometimes regret…

 

Most inhabitants always get wet.

 

Seething and hateful-

Girls are so graceful.

 

So on, move on.

Bygones be gone.

 

We don’t see each other.

We see what is right in front of us.

 

I see empty seats and a few people reading.

Cans at my feet, chewed nails start bleeding.

 

Other people laugh as they drink and carry on.

 

I think, time to kick the habit.

As I travel through time…

 

The train shakes, rattles, and bounces along.