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