Best Boxcar Poems

No, we weren't a couple one expected. 
"What could she be thinking", one reflected. 
Yet we held an undefined attraction; 
Some subconscious neuron interaction. 

After...

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Well, Gypsy Guy would rather die than hunker down in chains,

be ridden south with bit in mouth, or heed the hold of reins.



The ruling lot...

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In nineteen forty four on the third of September
Is a date in my mind that I'll always remember
It was the date of the last train...

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Ashes to Ashes

Smoke
rises in the distance.

The boxcar
rocks,
rocks,
rocks;
stones
are placed along the ties.
Were they placed by Chance
or left 
as gently as Kaddish.
I lift my hands in the...

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The truth is, I'm afraid of most everything.
From the beautiful forests cloaking hungry beasts. 
Every wave of the ocean din harbors a cold dorsal fin...
with...

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The greens of the forest open my mind
tantalizing me with their well-kept secrets
wowing me with their varieties and textures
refreshing me with a shiny coolness not...

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Armadilly Billy the Sling Shot Kidster, was the Sheriff of our town.
When mangy rustlers went into action, he was wont to hunt them down.
‘The Buzzard’...

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Gypsies garbed in colorful robes
fortune tellers on the seaside boardwalk
sneers they get from nonbelievers

“Vagrants,” they call tramps
hobos from Hoboken to Alcatraz
quietly passing the bottle to...

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A lad is stopped by roving cops, who shoot in disregard.

His face is black, he’s on his back, a breeze is breathing hard,

he bleeds and...

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We ride the cattle rail  Not knowing exactly what lay ahead. For weeks there's 
been no heat,  No bathrooms and we've barely been...

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Looking for adventure and escape,
a young girl's thinking of skipping school.
And a case of spring-fever finds her
skirting the edge of town, acting cool.

Sharp as a...

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Soup kitchens,
holed shoes, torned pocket

Shared bed,
stenched wall, damped floor

City siren,
whispering ally, neon glare

Brown bag,
trembling hand, goosed skin

Silked lined crombie,
blackened nails, matted hair

Stray dog,
molded bread, scavanged...

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The ride, the long hard ride 
No food, no water, just the ride 
Gathered like cattle for slaughter 
With tattoos they should not hide 
Where...

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On the eastern grade of the switcher yard, down at Medicine Hat 
There’s a tendency for cars to roll toward the Dunmore hill 
Back when...

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Runaway Train

    Conductor No Brain


Off His Track
     Didn't Look Back


Cargo Debris
   Blowing In Breeze


Poor Boxcar Willie
...

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