Friday, March 5, 2010

Yesterday’s Cascadian

What is tomorrow
What is today
What is my dreams in the night

What is the gritty wet sand
on the lines of the road
What a place I am not to be

Low in the realm of the
great vehicles of steel and fume,
passing this way to the narrowing dark.

Lying as crucified on the cooling tar
No star-eyed beams come past

No merciful lights to speak my name
No tomorrow promised today

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