Dispatch #34
Train Passing Through...
Thank you all for your support over the last month with your subscriptions. Quite a few subscriptions were sent as gifts to people. My heart is warmed. Even more so since it will be easier to pay the heating bills this winter!
Train Passing Through Chester, Pennsylvania
Oil refineries
barbwire night
with lit metal limbs.
Train windows
sluice through
amber-splintered dark.
I look at the map
on my phone.
This is the city
where I was born—
broken into breath
before breaking
into sound. I turn
and find my face
reflected, thrown
back, made blank
by the light in the car.
I truly enjoy reading your poems. They bring me joy sometimes sorrow. I feel as if your words have a life of their own. I don’t know if this makes any sense but I can’t explain it better either. “broken into breath
before breaking
into sound” (love this)
"barbwire night"
Love this line, encompasses the whole mood of the poem! Also:
"I look at the map
on my phone.
This is the city
where I was born—"
Such a heavy, dreamy image right there.