Railroads to Nowhere

On this railroad to emptiness,
the relentless

forward thrust of the tracks

is futile.

The journey to anywhere,
goes nowhere and.

interstices of time

gape open.
Moments when nothing is happening,

and nothing is anticipated.
When the hours shift

like sand beneath your feet.

.

It is possible

on such a journey
to wander the constellations,

explore a single leaf on sticky insect feet,

open your beak -

drop twigs from the topmost bough.

.

On such a journey a person might

revist a lost childhood,

float on an empty ocean,

might fly, fall, marry a pirate

sell their soul for peanuts.

.

Or simply sit,

alone,

in a silent room,

(with whitewashed walls)

watching shadows

of summer leaves

dance.
.
Let me travel nowhere
on rhymthmic wheels
as time unwinds.

Leave me the interstices.
.

You keep the rest.