Carried On Your Bicycle


One fine and wintry day at noon, and I to horrors all immune
Sat upon your cycle that rolled, that rolled on down the barren street.
I filled the frame behind your seat, and lifted up my precious feet
To set the bicycle to roll, to roll on down the barren street.
And while it strolled the street at noon, alike the lighter air-balloon
 It strolled the streets all way to June.

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Dogs On The Train


This is the wrong side of the tracks
Where as children, we would walk on the rails
Balancing
Both ourselves and the affairs of our world
With careless abandon,
With joy of anonymity,
And with little knowledge of things —
The pointed edges of our flying wings
Flapping like those of merry birds.

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