. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Untitled 5/24/05

Another from my days in Denver...

The soot in my hair is a reminder
Carrying me across the mountains
Into the west
This train chases the sunset
And I ride ride ride
Chugging breath like a drunkard
She meets me
Breaks my heart
And leaves again
The train carries me away
Into the west
Where no one can hurt
Because the air is pain
Two homes but no one to love
The sun is fire behind the high rocks
Snows drift
My hands are dirty
My mind is filthy
No one can eat tonight
She scares me with her love
Fear is not understanding
The wheels churn the iron
Round and round and round
Tomorrow I may not feel this way.


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