Sunday, September 8, 2013


                                                                       PRAIRIE TRAIN

The white train comes from a dark tunnel
of rocky mountains with its covering of snow.
The white train looks as though it has just escaped
from the jaws of darkness.  The white train steams
from the mountains into the flat
prairie, yielding the fresh seeds around it.

The horizon is exalted.  Ancient plains.
Whole sections never to have been farmed.
Over there the strong arms of farmers who
stand in little groups.  You cannot see
warriors or lost faces. Cattlemen at a distance.
On their way to a roundup maybe.

In the dining car, behind the hardwood door...
breakfast cereal and berries, cold juice
and a smile.  Already this morning
the chef has prepared breakfast for twelve
while tracking the prairies;  the formal
waiter never spills a drop only smiles.

A clean white napkin sits on the table
like a small mountain ready to fall.  Suddenly
the train brakes and stops.  The boy and waiter
peer through the window with wonderment
as they see the farmers with silver scythes
ordering them off the train, into the prairie.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013



with the shell of memories inwardly held
she once was approachable
ever captivating like frozen rain
her problem is what will come next
being alone is not easy

her soul has hardened
now petrified of other people
even those who love her
so she escapes from them
being alone is not easy

she likes nothing more than a sip of tea
so she can forget the dizzy race
and search for the stars in the sky
instead of watching old movies
being alone is not easy

buried deep beneath her brooding soul
remembering her life as a tale of misfortunes
and finding solace in self pity
she sees herself as a victim
being alone is not easy

thinking it best not to deal with details
she has difficulty with simple things
paralyzed by her will not to change
she feels good to be sad
being alone