Motion Sick On Train (Well, Just A Little)
Fake wood encircles
stomach side of cloud=
spattered glass,
stall-start express; outside
sun gleam-shines
river’s shell,
mountains swell
from continental
mist and drift==
slow…halllttttt..(no station stop)…go–
“Watch the Gap” warns yellow-black
stick-fellow, inked leg
incautious==but on train still forever
try not to.
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I’m posting the above for dVerse Poets Pub “meeting the bar” prompt hosted by the wonderful Claudia Schoenfeld, about impressionistic writing (and, in this case, my impressionistic stomach). (Since first posting I’ve edited heavily as I have trouble with my stove this morning and still haven’t had morning tea, so nothing’s right.)
I’m also letting the G-Man know since the poem is exactly 55 words. (Yes, I cheated.)
The train I sometimes take travels along the banks of the beautiful Hudson River.
ManicDDaily 
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