23.5.18 California

overnight train
from Oakland to Portland
from midnight in dim-lit industrial neverwheres
and four halting pickups
to picking up speed,
waking up after two hours to see
the half-moon hanging golden
over some unknowable landscape
trees like dark holes cut out of the night
and occasional flashes
of unshaped water.
Traversing this place
where maybe it is always dark
and the shape of things will always
just be hinted.
This is the passing-through.
Sleeping strangers
and the moon now backlighting
a dirty cloud
over occasional bright
diners & gas stations
never surprised
eternal in themselves
unchanging Americana
in between these unknowable
dark landscapes
and the red-lit train crossings.


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x





All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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