T.C. Carter


No memory of starting the trip
Or of coming to the end of the trip
Just the trip itself
Walled off from reason or cause
A journey taken
On a shaft of light
A tunnel through the dark night
In a forty-six Plymouth sedan
Going from Danville
To Martinsville
On two lane state highway 58
The existing world illuminated
By a pair of six volt headlights
A sameness to the changing view
Telephone poles like sprockets
On the edge of movie film
Click, click, click, click
They rush by
In a hypnotic rhythm
The occasional glare
Of two comets
Rushing to meet us
Out of the black abyss ahead
That comes dangerously close
And lightly rocks the Plymouth
Two red embers glowing
As they disappear in our wake
Adults in quiet conversation
The pungent odor
Of Chesterfield cigarette smoke
Old Spice after shave lotion
And perfumed ladies powder
The hum of the engine
The warmth of the heater
The comfort of family
The magic attraction
Of the shaft of light
Piercing the dark night
A young boy’s heavy eyes
That refuse to close
Going to Martinsville

T.C. Carter is an untrained, undisciplined, late-blooming writer who writes about the cowboy life, about growing up in the south and about anything else that comes to mind. He favors live reading over submitting for publication; has done a lot of the first and not much of the second.  

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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!