W.I. Stoneberger

Midnight Train

Where is that train going ?

Only audible in the quietest hours,
rumbling along the edges of sleep.

Who rides those moonlit rails ?

In dreams, I call out to that engineer,
begging to be taken away
- all the way to the end of the line.





Crow

I heard a sightless song
old black blind blues
tapping your good foot
against the darkness
flapping your sinister wings
like rhythm like time.

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The views and opinions expressed throughout belong to the individual artists and may or may not coincide with those of the other artists (or editors) represented within the magazine. Hobo Camp Review supports a free-for-all atmosphere of artistic expression, so enjoy the poetry, fiction, opinions, and artwork within, read with an open mind, and comment wisely. Thanks for stopping by the Camp!