the morning rail yard whistle blows.
our boxcar bound for... no one knows.
after every hidden seed out
from it covering has been free,
and every book has been discarded from the bookshelf.
and the forgetting of myself.
replace the feathers in our vests.
surround the ivy
thats gone to poison in my chest.
"the parachute broke loose,"
cried the goose with misplaced
but understandable concern
for his little brother's mental health.
his happy little brother,
and the forgetting of himself.
around the bulrush, the pollen shed.
to dress my wounds,
it left a bee sting in their stead.
i've been having anger thoughts from out my head (?)
headed east out of st. paul,
we stopped for water.
rested in the cemetery,
watched the mississippi.
running out of food stamps,
found a bag along the footpath
off highway 61 filled with
what looked like marijuana.
(don't worry mom, we left it there)
hopped a greenrail out a pin's eye
toward milwaukee, hit a deer
between the tower and the tracks,
saw right through it.
said, "you don't know where you came from,
you don't know where you're going,
you think you're you-
you don't know who you are,
you're not you.
you're everyone else."
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