Friday, March 8, 2013


Her gaze in my gaze.
While I am enjoying this book
which is tragic, comic, crazy
but utterly believable, utterly.
While I sense that light in my eyes
and that smile.
The train, as ever, is late
like my country, like life,
there is time to keep reading,
time before arriving.
Time in the meantime,
in which I want to indulge
and wish it never stopped.
On these empty lands where is anywhere?
Who needs arrive?
Fog is clouding the rims,
I am sensing in my veins
its familiar insubstantial stillness.
I just want to keep reading then
and transiting, in the train's roar
that merges with the fog
and all the roars' lore.
I just want to keep reading
and going, her gaze in my gaze,
her smile.
Before I myself become roar.


Crafty Green Poet said...

I can certainly relate to wanting to keep reading!

Dave King said...

Impressive, the way the rhythms of the desire to keep reading are the rhythms of the train. Excellent idea.