Together we need a respite from our howling. In the inner depths of the train’s night, inside full with feeling ,I stir along with the train and thought. She the train better stop thinking violent, not puffing like her coal-eater ancestor .
The mind walks slowly like the blue bird that went up and down on the telephone wire. Train-fans stir cold wind and winter air shaking shadows of recently fed men bringing out guttural sounds from sleep’s depths. Dreams spoil their fun through monster bridges and dark tunnels in the mountain’s wombs.
Train writes her history on two parallel lines in the black parchment all the while erasing it. I collect its exquisite shadows in the night’s silence.