ceci n’est pas une blog.

arose with a jolting start this morning,
coaxed myself together, wandered out the door.
the air was cold and the sky flat grey,
the lung that inspires new england.
deep breath, board the train, pay the fare -
stretch out and watch
the graffiti go by on ancient freighters.
rain between the rails, tiny seas,
parallel puddles mirror the sun,
poking her nose into the day.
the clouds glow in thin white lines
spanning the gravel sky.
the train trudges on beneath.
this is the way i like it,
i can almost believe i’m at home
in this extralocal world.
this landscape embraced me long before
i embraced it, it held me
until i came back.
here i am to claim my kingdom
throw open the doors
and let me have hope.