Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Always Last Night

 Last night
I went into an imaginary wood

Random impressions of Saint Ronan wannabe
captured in low-res

My reverie began 
with a long familiar vessel
A place I rest and meditate

Almost always alone

Trains at night
what they look like

The woods where I'm from


 Kept the floating lighthouse in sight
to find my way back again


Because the cops don't need you
It's right at the police dock
But they are rarely around


 Trains keep disrupting the peace
taking over the intersection

 In the imaginary woods
The old home of my childhood

 Having a flashback

March 2016

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