From the train window

I can see miles of Pines trees

that seem to go on forever.

There’s a golden wolf howling

at the moon

chanting to the midnight Gods.

By morning Pine trees give way to

Palms and screeching Cicadas.

Tonight the moon reveals the belly of

the world  from which we all come.

All that I have left is a photograph.  

Tell me night-time dreamer why you

hold so many secrets in your heart.

When I look into your  eyes

all I  see is star dust.