The Boy
There was a boy on the bus
Who was afraid that his stop would come
and he would miss it
He did not know the bus driver
and he was sure the driver did not know him
His breath clouded the window
and he made little foot prints
He wrote my name on the frosted window
he could see the snow through the letters
Train Scape
My shoes sleep under the end of my berth
and the rails rumble deep within my thoughts
Most folks don´t ride trains anymore
Who answers my phone when I´m not there?
Does he vanish when I open the door
The next time I go home
I´ll knock before I enter
just to see who answers the door
The Orb
The matrix of Time/Space is maintained
within this orb of light
It spins so silently
It seems to have no moving parts
It seems to keep time without touching the sides
It seems to run on faith alone
The Boy in the Car
There is a boy
in the back seat of the car
The whine of the transmission
has put him to sleep
I stop the car and cover him with my coat
He starts to say something
I lightly touch his lips
and tell him shush
I sing an old song
as we sail down the road
When the boy wakes
The High Road and Holy One
So Red
So rare
Consider the chromium steel
Crafted by the Sublime Hand
Consider the sensuous lines
The master Artisan undulating in
The throes of one cataclysmic orgasm
One perfect creation
Oh High Road and Holy One
Never before have the streets
Known one such as this
Mechanized Messiah
Incomplete in stillness
A frozen dancer aching to move
to glide
Fulfilled only when plying
the sacred ways
Singing praise and worship
In the hymn of the Infernal Combustion Engine