Throw the television off the train
These tracks going where few
Dare to venture alone
Through fields and plains
Colored with the tide
Winds moving the orange and red
Bare branches push up up
Sticks once bearing life, now
Only their core with variety
Skinny arms reaching to rid of
Too many other skinny arms
And wrists and hands
Crowded around in the
Rust gathering fields of steel
Power lines along side
Run in up and down waves
On a corresponding journey to life
The curves float as
Motion gathering momentum
With each cusp
It’s time to go home
Track 22 promises to take us there
To a place where smells and places
Familiar to greet and
Space for straightening question mark out into
Confident exclamation
Trails of feelings laced from
Here to the same places these
Veins and roots go deep
Trails like those of streets
Defining a new life source
With radical speed and
Revolutionary ideas
Learning to grow in revolutionary patience
