Masan Bound

Sweat and old rain seep
out of cherry blossomed
flesh, mingling with legions
of shivering, noisome bodies
on a wind-tossed April evening,
gelatinous kneecaps disintegrating
under harsh light.  Memories of another
train–equally overflowing–and of
another spring, distant and bitter,
briefly spark in these otherwise
vacant eyes.  As high-pitched
screams fill my guilty ears,
salt stained mouths whisper
softly, eager to go home.


What happened to these eyes of long ago?
…full moons shining from faces of antiquity…
They search me for answers.
I do the same.
A glimpse of truth from the forgotten…
….a barefoot boy with a tear stained face
….a blind crone with elephant skin
….a somber New Orleans prostitute
….a stern broom beard
Who were they?
dreamers and schemers?
I am the same – no different. searching and hungering….
….living a life

I know your dreams

….you are not forgotten