When I used to write poetry…

I used to write constantly. Relentlessly. Much of it was poetry. In high school, beyond passing notes to friends or creating a continuing story in a notebook that passed hand to hand I wrote in my journal. I had little bound books, decorated somewhere. I feel like I felt things so strongly, so intensely. Ideas … Continue reading

Trains (Undated)

The train is moving like a lonely serpent; its belly full of lost, confused, and soulful travelers, each preoccupied in his or her own world. Power lines are like skeletons in the sky, rigid with electricity.