irrelevant

Blurry Long Distance Road at Night

These next few moves matter
this I know to be true
that the distance between us
grows stiff with years
and we are different now,
and we have never been this
way—far away; chasing the tail
of our twenties. I am something
in between this and then
and these next few moves speak volumes
thousands of expired encyclopedias
are shouting wait Wait WAIT!
but we are on an airplane
and the wheels are up
and our phones are off
and the last thing I said was I’m sorry
but I can’t remember what for
these next few moves matter
they are the scribble
with which we write our lives
and these are not apologies
as much as manafestos.
and these next few moves
are happening outside my body
a reflex, a habit, a whole.

—ECW

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Poem 6 Revised

A day trip to Boston; Admission letter in the Mail

I don’t want to be on the train
But don’t fancy the station either
So I’m waiting–
–Waiting on the train
To take me to key-swipe comforts
Travel sized shampoos in
A room that isn’t mine, where I won’t linger
I’m waiting, waiting on the train.

What does it matter: travel
When we move time feels stationary
In the station, boundaries blur,
Faces of mismatched destinations,
Shifting in and out of peripheral
One by one a cattle call,
Time accommodates the footdrag masses.
But I’m waiting waiting, waiting, on the train.

I’m not moving forward, not without
The train, steaming–exhausted
From rhythm-wheel journeys. Static
Waiting on: railcars, acceptance letters,
inspiration, divine intervention.
Feet are for pacing; Be Patient
She hisses, like water on coal
So I’m waiting waiting waiting, waiting on the train.
–ECW

 

Poem 6 EditedPoem 6 Original

Poem 6

A day trip to Boston; Admissions letter in the Mail
I don’t want to be on the train
But I don’t fancy the station either
So I’m waiting
Waiting on the train
To take me to temporary bedsheets
Travel sized shampoos
A room that isn’t mine where I won’t linger
I’m waiting, waiting on the train.
What does it matter: moving
When we move it feels stationary
In the station the bodies blur
Too quick to memorize
Shifting in and out of peripheral
In and out of reality? Who’s to say.
Time accommodates the scuttling masses
But I’m waiting waiting, waiting on the train.
I’m not moving forward, not without
The train, steaming—exhausted
From rhythm-wheel journeys. Paralyzed,
Waiting on: railcars, acceptance letters,
inspiration, divine intervention.
Feet are for pacing; Be Patient
She hisses, like water on coal,
But I’m waiting waiting waiting, waiting on the train