Cheryl Garner (2013)
These autumn rains, these Hopper blues,
These destinations, stations passed,
These memories which have yet to form,
These tricks which gather up the night.
Each isolation – neon stained –
Is captured in its gleaming feint,
Is held, unique, in slow decent:
From state to state, from hope to spent.
And you: I wonder how you took
The morning – made it live again,
And glow again (if only once,
If only through electric eyes).
You took a crossing point in time,
And found a voice for rain and light.
Journal 16/11/1998
Every week day morning, for 34 minutes, the regime of the train. A single distance, a single mind? Pass that new factory, that new hill, that familiar supermarket: a unique aspect at each glance. But what “each glance”? There is only one.
Meeting unexpectedly someone you know. Get on at xxxx station… I know that person… do I…? where the hell from…? It’s (notice the bag she is carrying: Cockburn Street, Edinburgh). But what “each glance”? Face, hair, bags, face. Puzzled expression: mutual. This is not a film: no edits, no frame. Lots of discountings: this is background. I see the station, but concentrate on listening to the person speaking (by staring at her mouth and eyes). I am seeing words form.
The train is going to be late. Work can wait.
Image by Cheryl Garner (2013)
Poem by thecheesewolf (2013)
Train Journal Entry by Gavin Jones (1998)