i hear trains rolling in
the distance; i hear trains
rolling in the distance...
when i hear trains rolling in the distance, pushing themselves across
country, inventing new sounds that break my 2 a.m. silent longing,
like razors through this dying city — i listen, & let myself ride with
if only for a few seconds before the whistling, screaming horns, & the
vibrations under the earth evaporate into the invisible breeze of the
trains are the gods of this city. the way a train draws your attention
breaks through the horizon; the way it has the power to stop every
the intersecting railway crossings — the bars dropping like exhausted
at the feet of angels, red lights flashing from side to side, & the
white stripes criss/crossing/ each/other. yes, the ringing of the
(or welcoming) bells sound a deeper meaning than church choirs.
“I love everything that flows, everything that has time in it and
wrote Henry Miller & i tend to agree: i love the flowing steel rivers
trains; i love to move & be pulled slowly or quickly into my humanity;
love everything that takes me away & drives me deeper into the
& i love going down west on University Street until i reach the old
track overpass, than turn my direction downhill & move onto the now
trail that stretches out for a few kilometers under this city.
& sometimes when i walk softly along the old tracks, i sit my body down
my knees, place my hands on the cold abandoned steel & wonder where it
that i, & we, are really going.
i hear trains rolling in the distance...
©2004 by Chris Kornacki