Jack Burney
your Beautiful Dreams hide
in a stream of black smoke
trailing the Chicagoland Express
on the outbound train riding through
the great wheat plain
We Listen
to Beautiful Thinkers who quietly
Tinker on the creaky train
(drinking grain alchyhol
at 3 a.m.)
We are Gautama
-Buddha
Meditating like Neruda
I
Kiss those hands Your prose stained hands
We breastfeed and suckle
I
On Tecate
You on Quetzalcoatl
O
The old man screaks
while
Curtis, my brother
Pulls the curtain clouds Apart to sneek a Peek
He Hears:
“Which way to San Francisca?”
The pushcart peddler bares a toothless smile
from his whole hearted soul
says
“Li Po needs a ride”
while
Up from Mexicoland Mother Earth transforms herself
Scrub brush
Dances
Motherless mirages blanket the horizon
Cacti stand
-sentinels manned
The barrage of dust coats
My lungs
I Point up to say
“Heaven
lies in the ground you seek”
Jack Burney
On the night express Enroute to Midamerica, U.S.
-Train trail rider
Your journey ends as the crossroads
portend