Rail Trail Take Me
Eugene Kwong
I want to run my tongue along these silver train tracks, the tracks will speak me in one long LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL as it drags me along. I’ve become the language of the rails. My tongue no longer speaks but is spoken, and I submit to involuntary phonology. The rails are intangible to me because I am no longer organism but sound, the dry gravel and rock trembling jagged and loose, screaming and exploding for one perfect second, then dead. Whatever profane thoughts arise through me are neither profane nor thoughts, for I have no control, my consciousness absorbed. If it wants to curse the pope, that’s its prerogative–– Meaning is simply coincidental. The tracks speak the name of that unknown destination which I know and which I amplify and am. Lerlin, I think it was.
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