Rensselaer

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These nights linger in my mind like a hiss of white steam from 16mm black-and-white goodbyes. As Empire 243 silently pushes drag me away against my will, the hallowed tunnels envelop these words in darkness. Underneath her streets, the sudden flicker of halogen casts shadows of hope but I cast the notions aside just as simply. My trembling fingers find hold of a tattered Voice, upon which the forest within me takes shape. Graphite dreams of mournful arbor, whose roots still embrace my bastard heart, unfold from my uneasy hand. Suddenly, past the piercing wail of the whistle echoing on the Hudson waves, six-stringed sorrow meets my ears. And as the lyrics break my soul I will not weep, but stare into the eternal black of night,…

making peace with the fog which waits to take me in.

Created: Nov 09, 2010

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