Sunday, July 23, 2017

The Osceola Moon

if only
no one had been
at the station to greet me
but the moon

and maybe
instead of me
getting off of a train
the moon could have got on board

as deep as the tracks traveled
to find a place where it is always dark

where sleep is a dirty word
and there's nobody foolish enough
to work for a dream

where the night needs no name
and the stars remember everyone
by face

where not an utterance
not a whisper
is ever spoken of the sun

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