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Literature Text
treble
trainyards are for clearing space, the trains
tremble at
making it worth our while to move in
the hierarchy of
where our junctions juxtapose
daffodils and diffidence
greet with a sandbag-bible
boxcar and baggage packed
for friends of trains
towards dry counties and wet markets
are friends
of the movement of elongated contrail-tracks
of mine
trainyards are for clearing space, the trains
tremble at
making it worth our while to move in
the hierarchy of
where our junctions juxtapose
daffodils and diffidence
greet with a sandbag-bible
boxcar and baggage packed
for friends of trains
towards dry counties and wet markets
are friends
of the movement of elongated contrail-tracks
of mine
Literature
notesleep
playing my emphases like harp strings
your voice smokes thru the oaken bramble
pour a carbonated apology, a sun-stained
mile marked envelope, two ill-fitted birds,
hands small holes right before a rush of river
what it feels like being swallowed from the outside
crushing rings into truth serum, pretend
to be out of tune with that deception
I have been unable to parse my own persona
a pink cotton voice I remember thru the phone
I remember because it formed me into a granary
one crop after another of patriarchal idioms
whisper my secrets so softly into a glint of red hair
a saucer-eyed lace pattern cut into pine paper
I practice radical self lo
Literature
Endless
Memories so visceral
I can still taste them,
like the salty sweet wash of your skin
after a slow morning run
in the dancing summer rain.
Eyes a shade of amber,
golden flakes glowing in the warmth
of a crackling fire,
your lips parted like an envelope
I'm aching to seal.
Words whispered silently,
a tender glance exchanged,
an undulation of emotion,
a burst of color and a blast of light,
two lone figures unite.
Hands in the dirt,
knees in the slushing mud,
battle weary and fatigued,
I trudge step by step
toward the peak of this moment,
a banner raised,
emblazoned with your name.
For I'd rather die on the hill,
swathed in the regalia of my d
Literature
Awake
Awake
We - are the children of Cygnus
Sagittarius , the Pleiades, Orion, and the Dog Star
Sprung from the womb of the Hypernova
Recycled, Reborn, Eternal
Observe
Times arrow returned to its quiver
Unlimited
Alive - in every moment that has been
or will ever be
Free
From the shackles of the linear mind
and the material wastelands of the Fallen
Pity the mortal and the blind
We dine on starlight
and dance to the rhythm of the fractal void
The heavy metal, rock and roll beat of the Magnetar and Star Quakes
The techo-jazz, thump thump thump of the pulsars
The waltz of the binaries
in their elegant embrace
We ride the big surf of the Broa
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The idea behind this piece of literature requires some explanation, but is really quite simple. It works like a trainyard. The lines can be read (downward) in almost any order you can think of. I'm not saying to rearrange the lines. I'm saying if you skip a few of them while reading the sentence should continue as a new "train of thought."
Here are two favorites of mine:
Thanks to ~nawkaman who prompted me to expand on the previous version of the poem, which was a Bitlet.
Trainyard © 2012 Nic Swaner
Here are two favorites of mine:
I
trainyards are for clearing space, the trains
where our junctions juxtapose
for dry counties and wet markets
are friends
of the movement of elongated contrails
II
tremble at
making it worth our while to move in
the hierarchy of
any friends of trains
Thanks to ~nawkaman who prompted me to expand on the previous version of the poem, which was a Bitlet.
Trainyard © 2012 Nic Swaner
Comments11
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For friends of trains are friends of mine.
My last three or so posts are of friends of trains, or maybe just on trains.
My last three or so posts are of friends of trains, or maybe just on trains.