early morning train

Image by Drew Jacksich from San Jose, CA, The Republic of California - SP 6459 with Sunset LA March 1971x. Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

Image by Drew Jacksich from San Jose, CA, The Republic of California – SP 6459 with Sunset LA March 1971x. Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

early morning train sounds a mournful c minor chord,
first inversion,
in the winter rain,
approaches,
grows louder,
then fades into the distance,
weeping all the while.

River of Road

image

Alone with my thoughts on a river of road, I witness fantastical visions in the landscape:
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The Unicorn’s Dream

Of what does the unicorn dream?
Does he envision virgin princesses,
pure and sweet
Trusting and innocent
With scented lap and gentle fingers?

Or crystal castles with vast stables
and endless meadows,
with sweet clover and spicy sorrel,
peopled with hands content to brush
and clean and worship the bright creature?

Or does he dream of darker things,
of war and separation,
of his virgin princess laid bare and ruined,
or his stables burned and raided?

Or does he dream at all?

Is it that he is so pure that he needn’t dream
Because he exists only in dreams?

The heart of the earth

The heart of the earth beats,
her pulses lapping the shore.

The trembling edge where earth meets sea
and sea meets sky
and sky meets fire.

When at rest, her gentle heart
loves all things, the mother of us all;
When angered, her terrible heart
tosses and breaks, frantic and dangerous.

Her depths in motion, embracing motion;
the flick of a single cell becoming
one with its fellows,
and as one they grow into a force
carrying along everything in their path
until they breach and overwhelm the shore.

The ever-shifting cycle of creation and destruction,
connecting all things,
moving all things,
breathing all things,
feeding all things,
singing all things,
creating and re-creating,
sliding, turning,
living, dying,
changing all things.

The heart of the earth beats,
her pulses our pulse.