Hierophany

endless trains
            plow under
these hills of rusty clay
            pulled by a team
of mournful     donkeys

the whistle bray
echoes
            among black tongue cattle

circling turkey
           vultures
       tidy the roads,
protect             fallow ground

on the track
there is wall…

rock elm & crimson dogwood
crudely
            woven        together
with      inner tubes     &
ropes    of               boiled
            fiber

the station is long gone.
            no cookies
nor carrots
            can please the blinded team
& the steel      boxes
                      with lovely graffiti
won’t slow down

This entry posted by J Rand : 20:49