The Train

On the train, with a bag full of books,

All by the same person.

That's what writing is.

 

With each shudder bump my

Head lags behind, and my eyes follow

While the wandering shaky straight line

Moves up through me like a poem.

 

The quickest point between William Shakespeare

And Allen Ginsberg is the train.

A man behind me says,

"What have you got in the bag, Son?

In the bag Son.

What have you got in the bag — son?

What have you got?"

 

His eyes are like milky shadows

And his nails are long as Moby Dick.

 

I tell him there are books in the bag and

I hand him one so he can touch it.

"You like stories?" I say.


"I got stories," he says, he hands the book back.
"I don't like to tell them to nobody."

He sits down beside me, and I say,
"Those are memories, they are better than stories."