And pop ! Just like that
we’re sailing on air
through rolling hills barren of trees
the cattle sit still
they seem unaffected by Trump or Sanders or Clinton
or Wolf Blitzer or any talking hairdo.
Browning Montana a pile of tires a million strong
giant heaps of all types of household appliances
The washing machines of yesterday
washing away the grit and grime, the result of working
hot days in the Montana sun.
Have been writing one continuous set of prose since we left
King Street Station
I’m so relaxed now
looking out the window
watching Montana roll by
My only regret is I didn’t do this sooner
see you soon steel rails of
The California Zephyr
The Southwest Chief
The Sunset Limited
see you soon City of New Orleans
sitting sipping tea, gently swaying back and forth,
the silos empty waiting for their bellies to be filled.
Meeting people from all over the world
they come here to see this country
the one I’ve hardly ever seen
at Havre Montana all relaxed
I’m all sleepy, like gently rocking a baby.
The rails in lines uninterrupted
the wheels roll like magnets on magnets
creating a cushion of air we use
to sail across America.
On the steppes of our great nation
I saw the heartland for the first time
from the window moving by
we accelerate, lurching forward
bouncing along on our journey
my mind is clear of rubbish.
Montana you are long like California
thank you for demonstrating to me a land
without oceans and big cities
it’s just you, big and dry and hot
Big Sky country I wish you wouldn’t fade away.
The wheels purr below the window car
unusual vistas in every direction
almost seems like a crayon drawing
an imaginary scene created by a creative mind
yet it is real, it is vivid
it is not a dream
though it seems like one.
Is it okay if we slither along like this forever?
Can we bop along in perpetuity?
Can we never return to the state of immobility?
Can we ride this iron highway endlessly?
We are motoring at 73 miles per hour
not a freeway or a car in sight
this prairie parkway was created by visionaries
over a century ago
hypnotized by the whisper of the Titan car
sashaying it’s way across American landscape.
I’m sitting here trying to be neurotic
I’m trying to worry about the future
I’m trying to regret the past
I’m trying to worry about the schedule
I’m trying to worry about my connection in Chicago.
We sit still on a siding in the middle of no where
waiting to yield to the oncoming Empire Builder
me, unconstrained with my time
Irrigation is the key to agriculture
irrigation turns wasteland into
Amber waves of grain
and purple mountain majesty
and potatoes and onions and everything else
America we don’t need to become great again
we are already great.
They took his humanity and he let them
they reinvented him turned him into a science project
to taunt and tease and slowly torture
they turned me into something that I am not
they lied about and me and I’m not happy
about it.
The oil rigs shine in the distance
ConocoPhillips, Royal Dutch,
it seems odd to see them out here
drilling in the rolling fields of wheat.
The Baaken field is bigger than Saudi Arabia
as long as we’re addicted to the
internal combustion engine
those guys have to do their job,
period.
Who is the current dictator of North Dakota?
I promised you all a story about growing up in Bellevue
It’s hard to think about that place
When I’m sitting here in my little Volkswagen van
Strapped onto the the space shuttle
Flying down the tracks
Destined for Memphis Tennessee
Train travel decompresses
It reduces your fixations
Sitting in Williston you can’t do anything
About this or that
Takes away your ability to freak out
It’s like being in Mexico and trying to force yourself
To have anxiety about what time to go to the beach
Montana rocks
North Dakota rolls
But North Dakota has rocks too
The enormous chariot is persistent, it pushes forward
Through the night with dogged determination
It never stops trying to reach its destination
The engine always leads by example
From the quiet comfort of my little car
I type these verses
It’s a luxury hobo hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy
Kerouac rode to L.A. In an open gondola car
Some cheese slices and an old bum by his side
They nearly froze to death as they were ill prepared
For the all night ride huddled together outside
Bombing down the coast from Frisco
This is hardly a hobo’s life at all
I’m a beyond middle age Bellevue Beatnick
Riding air conditioned across the top of the country
Looking out the comfortable boxcar window
A cavalcade of stars showers the Minnesota night
These words are written to be read out loud
Picture an old poet with a microphone
Swooning the audience, emphasizing certain words
He reads with passion, he writes with passion
He can hear the words jump off the page
It’s like jazz, it’s like music, it’s like a holy convention
Of thoughts and feelings and a saxophone symphony
Of the mind and spirit and soul
A sum total of totality typed on this little screen
It’s me baring my bare naked soul to those
Who want to listen to the Jazz that resides
Deep inside me
Enough about me
How about that Galaxy ?
Are we all connected to the divine flame or what?
This locomotive is divine
As it hovers above the track
Thousands and thousands of tons
Flying weightless in to Minnesota
America I have watched you fly by
My window for two days now
I’ve seen your fields and farms and cities
Red Wing, Minnesota the barges on the Mississippi
Loading grain from the silos
Old Glory flying proud on a tug
I’m hopeful for you America
As I am hopeful for myself
This train is determined to make it
To Chicago, Illinois
It serves many points along the way
These stops are part of its duty
It does not treat theses duties as distractions
It’s part of the job
Yet it’s purpose remains unchanged
It does not change course on a whim
It plows on through the night
Pulling its cars full of characters
The long haulers, the sleepers, the dreary
And weary eyed
The foreign travelers seeing America for the first time
The retirees hanging out and poking along
The confused, like me, trying to make sense
Out of things that seem senseless
This train is the one constant
It keeps moving, staying on its purpose
The Empire Builder stays on these tracks
Steadfast in its determination to arrive
In Chicago, Illinois
Sitting in observation, observing
Noticing what I notice
I’m in awe of the Mississippi River
At its widest unobstructed point it looks like a lake
Wide and open and flowing
And building momentum
It is with locomotive determination
The river flows to the Gulf of Mexico
Out the window I see farm land and marshy forests
And the Mississippi River
And I see Wisconsin on the other side
each day when you wake up on this train
You awaken to a new journey
A reinvention of the soul and spirit
I have experienced healing
Though the lump still rises in my throat
When I think about it
I am as determined as this train to keep going
To build things along the way
An Empire of the soul and spirit
Out of this miracle we call life
Two thousand two hundred and two miles
The Empire Builder has not failed
It has not wavered or even hinted at giving up
It has never said maybe to me, not once
It has never dangled a prize in front of me
And withdrawn it
The train is focused on one thing
If I can take this away as my lesson
I’ll be miles and miles ahead
huffingpuffpost 