Shelly asked for a poem, so here’s one I wrote for my graduate thesis.
Express
On a train to anywhere. I run from the water and the haunting shriek
children make in the sunlight. Past my picture window
summer days slip like cinders, hover in the piped wail
from the conductor’s fist. Bass-toned, the carriage sways, pitches.
My ears ache with the empty motions after love: whistles,
tickets, luggage, the engine’s relentless drone. Windows crowded
with bright shapes—farm lands, bicycles,
blue-suited businessmen—safe beyond the glass.
How much distance
to leave you?
These countries squeeze and extend like a brilliant accordion.
My eyes close
on your shadow. This train says tomorrow and hurls me forward.
Your voice can’t catch me. Stretch and pull, but your arms won’t reach
through the waves and the glaring white.
That’s escape on many levels. I enjoy the emotion in your images — the very successful double meanings. And specifically, the last three lines.
Thank you.
No worries. The closest I get to poetry anymore is writing songs. It’s interesting to pick up the old work sometimes, and relive the experience of creation.