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Reveille! Reveille! All hands heave out and trice up. Now reveille!
- At April 15, 2015
- By Bob Howe
- In Blog Posts, Poetry
0
the sleepy commuter army
hung with backpacks and hard hats
newspapers and handbags
in disorderly queue
looking down
the track for that morning
train
we snap sheepishly awake
when the station lights go out
photosensitive reveille
as morning pulls into the station
Night Crossings
- At February 08, 2015
- By Bob Howe
- In Blog Posts, Poetry
- 0
a fast northbound train
sheds an icy comet trail
the winter station
#
everyone has those nights
when memory chases desire
afoot in terrain
of comforting terrors
#
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
#
the color of death
is white, leaden winter sky
the absence of depth