Poetry from Lost Roads PublishersFive poems from Heart Into Soil
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The passage to heaven I see him from a distance. Sleep is a long narrow train with many empty seats. I see myself sitting, traveling somewhere Along the way, on my left I see unfold, meticulously, a mysterious orange and ochre shape. I almost wake up Heaven is just back of my eyes, almost as if--the train moving just a bit faster or stopping--I might become the first person to see heaven and return. I can't tell you how that passage woke me at midnight and made me happy. The train reaches its destination in the tropics. I'm waking slowly and longing for two women I love Di home page
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