The sun he imagined
must be going down.
He rubbed his head
lulled by the clack
and drag, a lovely song
on the railed horizon
crooned by the bag-lady
stuffed with newspapers
in the seat opposite.
A cracked Chicago moon
won't trace a door
where freshwater boats dip
hulls choked in the swell
of starlight in a beerglass.
Comments
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Quality
Hey Chicago. Wonderful words and imagery here. Loved the 'clack and drag' as the music of a train. 'Starlight in a beerglass' was also beautiful and pleasing but I thought the second stanza 'went off the rails' a little and became poetry for poetry's sake to some extent. Nothing wrong with that but the first stanza was more pleasing for having more direction. Quality stuff nonetheless. Really liked it. >W<
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k
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