Wednesday, September 11, 2013


there's a lamppost at the
end of the train tracks that cut into the land and
bite their way through the town with metal teeth
where rust meets rust
and light is cradled in a
small hand of wax —
meet me there
meet me where the branches reach forward
and the town is no more than just a whisper in
a canyon
meet me where the fog steps with heavy feet
and blankets the cold and shivering bones of trees
meet me where the strangers come on wheels
from unmapped lands and the
world begins anew

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