LatinosUSA

By the midnight train
 
Attempting beyond good
and evil
The eye transfixed
On the way
I forget why I dream
 
The way... that mythical
way...
 
So many are roads
So few a place to call
Home
 
No more than an empty
room
 
My garden
My vines
My lees...
 
Here the trains still pass
So deep in the silences
of my glowing nights
 
And they roll and rock
Both the places and the ways
Over long irons trails
Contracting time
Into space
 
Men have houses
You said
But are porches*
Mere windows
Of their souls
 
They have beautiful photographs
And mournful hearts
A life in sepia tones
 
True, I concede
Mine being
Of black and white
A life in argentique