Trans Siberian

The charm of a train that never stops, it always stays with me.

*

Orange fields, open moons, a country open wide, through a window, before the viscous sea wild.

*

Far away, underneath a thunderous sky,that builds rolls and falls beneath, Into August raindrops, shining rails that run away from the windowsill.

*

Endless distance.

*

Honesty lost in the trees, rolling East into the sunrise, awake from a revolving dream.

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Of the touch, the meaning, a shared premenition, The moon, the stars, the horizon, the sun.

*

That rises into a bloodshot watery sky, tired of a journey, that’s forgotten its concept of time.

(August 2007)

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