June 19, 2012

poem 193 of a poem a day for 2012



hobo kingdom

I am America
I am a kingdom of more
I want more of something
I can’t put into words
yet I try everyday
to get more
to write more
to gather more

it’s closing time
factories are
memories in America
a land once free
now snaked
with ghosts of trains
and the freight of empty promise
that our nonsensical humanity 
has become

we are moored
we are a frilled neon
peep show humanity
walking the lines
another lonely version
of ourselves
out searching for a more
that may only ever be
glimpsed in dreams
in scratch fever Spring lucidity

there once were plenty of jobs
root towns could be found everywhere
steady work and the ability to pay
fairly a share of your burden
to feed that hunger for more of something
that you knew you wanted
and could paint every year
and wait for the seasons
to peel back to your bones again
but that story is only told in books now
and those too are fading fast from view
as electronic frontiers have commandeered
the trees to burn instead of turning into paper
or some other useful thing like railroad ties
that forge the space between
mechanization and sustainability
profiteers have become the Mayors
in all those root towns
and divide the masses
with social classes
that pit one against the other

so here I am too
walking that line
trying to find 
more of something
that I can put in my pocket
that I can take out
from time to time
and feel it’s shine
and know it’s mine
when I go back
and fish my dreams
for more words
to paint over something
that I can never really explain
how it may be missing
with any sort of why
other than my compromised soul
that I just keep
walking the line with
hoping someday
some words
some thing
someone 
will be waiting
to find me too
prince and
pauper
puppet shadowing
the Sun
marking the days
in miles
along the way

EJR ©

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