Night Crossings

a fast northbound train
sheds an icy comet trail
the winter station

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everyone has those nights
when memory chases desire
afoot in terrain
of comforting terrors

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the night crossing
of necessity
oars unshipped,
unpoised
over a rushing skin
of black water

fleeing people
of a book redolent
of blood and ash
vision strained to a far shore
time shrouded and
memory wooded

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the color of death
is white, leaden winter sky
the absence of depth