Greetings! I am aboard the hell o'clock train, otherwise known as the regional Amtrak; it is my intention for the day to see how much I can sleep in the quiet car. Right now there are some very beautiful streamers and shells of cloud in the dawn-faded blue of the sky, a kind of hand-gilding light on the passing verticals of bricks and concrete. Everything is so much greener than even the last time I took this line: the trees are bursting out like summer, not just blossoming. It is not fair of me to think that the man who just took a seat diagonal of me looks like he should be walking across a stage in that grey business suit and glasses, a briefcase in one hand and a bright red umbrella in the other. Further bulletins as consciousness warrants.
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- 1: I might fail math if you don't move your shoulder
- 2: My old body that you buried with the mud and the timber
- 3: With life and so much loss, time has weighted us
- 4: Out in space, coast to coast
- 5: Like a sprig of yarrow caught in the dark
- 6: The moon still rises on everybody else
- 7: To the green field by the sea
- 8: Eating cereal, remembering the sky
- 9: We'll tell you of a blossom and of buds on every tree
- 10: Am I lost inside my mind?
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