Railroad Ghosts

Railroad Ties
We follow the railroad,
hands older than mine,
the generations before laying out a passage. I
wonder about the settlers who first travelled through here.
I think of the Native Americans who lived off of the earth
even before covered wagons and railroad ties. I
wonder what blood was spilled
on the soil under the pavement we are driving,
if the land still cries out with it.
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Wandering Soul
Wandering soul, you are beautiful,
caught in between
death
and
life.
He will find you.
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Never Alone
Even in the desert,
the power lines remind us
we are never alone.
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Spiny Cacti
The cacti, saguaros as they are known, look like they are signing “I love you.”
Maybe, like some others, the cunning fox, the slithering serpent,
they are snares in the sand,
their words are a trap to lure you in before pricking you at the core.
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Random Thoughts:

Is there a love that lasts forever?

Power lines are crosses—the source of power running through them.

It is quiet on Route 66 at 3 a.m.

I find it comforting that rain smells the same wherever you are.
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Altar of Love
Why do men write about nothing but love?
So many other things to pin my attention to the page…
loss of life…
the headlines read…
next in line for…office, the death chamber, the fruit stand.

Still, we bow
before an uncontrollable being,
an intemperate altar, where we lay our lives,
our hearts, our minds
as a sacrifice before any other—

I, too,
am guilty as charged,
but somehow do not reap the benefits of this demise,
only the pain
of losing you to another.