the train in the microcosm – II


as the clicking of trick heels

beckons the seconds

low and leery

near and importune

but of no importance

placed between delicate delicacies

that slide down sweet

and push up daisies

dazed and stored

in numbing stories

flowing faster into the face

like velvet fingertips

upturning a trace

trained to play

light on the lips

sleek and shallow swallowed down

with intoxicated whimsy

thin merits drown

deep in need

knee-deep indeed

and tripping on epitaphs

of brazen imbuement

cut along line graphs

and pie charts

shy parts consent

but who will ring the bell?

or whistle blow?

when we can tell

implicit arrival

placated well

pushing us past into the blue

yonder shores avexed

where cognates once grew

in separate grounds

one after the next

“Don’t stop me now, dear truth.”

‘wouldn’t if I could’

but wonder if I should’

“Less talk will prove the sooth.”

rattles back the ties in the track




the train in the microcosm – I


whistles and synthetic sighs

ring and chirp out buttery lies

of noisy fumes beside my fears

which fill my ears

and plug my eyes

abducting my sensation

bleeding out all lines of motivation

save a single chain

linked into my brain

those images in a nation

that draw me in with sound

drawn out with cringes crowned

and kicks my knees

to trip with ease

and trap with further footstep found

in given retrograde

alas poor Yoric never made

as foolish act as mine

who choked upon the line

that sought to seek but never stayed

to see the consequences

of loving through those glassy fences

masked with words and moving pictures

shocks to still our fragile fixtures

prodding providences

to inordinately thin delight

whose plastic padding holds the night

in smothering embrace

with breath withheld for heart to race

within this silent space

withall this pleasant plight

on it tracks a tempered tune

of softened steel pull too soon

from tongues that sought to lick it clean

and breathe on it a sheen

presented as a boon

to harness hollowed tendencies

whose disarray brings to my knees

a wholly desperate desire

to hold into the fire

these pale pleasantries

that sing the song of all the other

sticky wisps that seek to smother

facets shaped and shined for dreaming

life inside the gleaming

singing on of yet another