the train moans like a ghost
and if it’s hauling coal
or cars of people
it’s pushing carbon
there and back

a ghost groans like a train
but do not ask of sonics
or metaphysica, for i am
a humble journalist only telling
what i heard

is it so, so mad
to wire a robot thus?
that it would metronome
a truer beat than people
in the way angels worship more cleanly

the consciousness of the giraffe
is what “looks” at me through black lashes
and not the entire giraffe at once
when i say unto you
the giraffe popped its neck looking moonward

there are more things in head and heaven
than there are in reality
that list in god’s brain always-and-eternally
incomplete of all things-at-once
(it is not so unusual upon waking)

1 thought on “soul

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