Thursday, December 16, 2010

as if she were

it should be enough
I suppose
to just see her there just
resting upon the tracks

to wonder
where she's been
and the snows
she's woken into shattered clouds

looking to the shattered window
and why is it always so?
i see men
who played her throttle
and more feared the brake

i see smoke through her hills
and wheels trailing grease
while bums raced and
reached for her doors

it's as if she were
yet alive
if only my eyes
could breathe

and if she were parked
at Miller's crossing
where never I care to go
or hidden at the bottom
of Whiskey River
where catfish would spawn
in her iron

would even i notice
the barren tracks
on which she played

it should be enough
i suppose
to see her there
and know she ran
the fields of my seasons
and carried my dreams
of departure

but seeing isn't enough
so I cross the fence
bramble my pants
and scramble the rock
just to feel her heat
once more

my hands caress
her weather-battered wood,
my eyes breathe again
the screech of her iron
and for a moment beyond time
it's as if
she were again
a cloud of wish
in the hillside of hope
my dreams of departure

Friday, December 10, 2010



The word didn't fall away
And float like an april breeze
But spewed and hissed
Like a trailer park gas leak
Whis- the hammer
Key- the nail
Driven home
Deep and true

The bartender didn't ask for particulars
knowing it didn't matter
And his face poured shame
To the jigger's dance


The room hung heavy above the street
Like a burp from hell
While inside
The red and green neon
Fiddled across the barren walls

He lay on his back
His arm crooked beneath his head
While her head rested
Upon his shoulder

They both stared up at the nothing
The other kept secret

The tornado had passed
The barn was gone
And the stained sheet
Proved shelter enough

Her tangled hair tickled his nose
While his batter baked
Between her sleeping thighs

The still after the storm always
Casts an eerie pall
that words cannot abate

He picked up a board
And turned it
Studied it
tossed it, and
Looked to where the barn had been

She looked to where the barn
Had never been

"i love you"

but the words didn't fall
And float
Like an April breeze
but rather, spewed
Like a trailer park gas leak

Love-the broken hammer
You-the bent nail
Salvaged from the twister
bred in the heat

She said
Much to his liking