chance glance

In Phoenix, Arizona, where I live, there is a light-rail conveyance that runs through town. Years before its construction I had a dream that there would be a train that ran through  town, a commuter train like big cities like Chicago had. “What a crazy dream,” I thought on awakening. But it happened.

I ride it often, and am often struck by how many different universes it contains due to its passengers. There are the realities of going to work, coming home from work, coming home from prison, going off to do something that may end a body up in the slammer, heavily pregnant woman and her man, jeering student, motorchaired sufferer, baseball fan, dog-toter. Lives wildly unalike, intersecting in a passenger car.

chance glance

circumstances changing
holographic will
archetypes estranging–a
nail melts in a kiln
cello flute & voice harmonic
enter old realms, Hypersonicke