Why So Delirious?

Yekaterinburg, Russia – September, 1996

Why So Delirious?

Long project

From June to September

Vienna to Moscow

Moscow to Siberia

Siberia to Moscow

Moscow to Nizhny Novgorod

Nizhny Novgorod to Boston

Boston for a week then back

to Moscow, back to Nizhny

back to Moscow then to

the administrative center

of the Urals, Yekaterinburg

I’m tired, it’s getting cold

and the heat isn’t on yet

October 1997, Moscow, Russia

October 1997, Moscow, Russia

Two days before this photo was taken, I was on vacation in Atlanta, Georgia where it was a nice 70 degrees . I returned to Moscow —where I lived and worked. On the flight back, as the plane made its final approach, l looked at all the snow on the ground covering the entire city. That is when I remembered, I left my overcoat in the trunk of the rental car at Hartsfield-Jackson airport in Atlanta.

Traffic Jam

on the highway today
riding up highway 95
heading towards junction
where paths split between
Philly and Delaware bridge
in a parking lot on the road

wife is driving, I’m typing
and playing navigator watching
the big GPS screen mounted
in the corner of my windshield
sipping on a sugar free
lukewarm energy drink chillin

looking north, looking east,
looking west for words to write
finding none in this desert
of asphalt and automobile fume
slowly we began to crawl
slowly we claw through the hoard

these are the days you question
your so-called love for the road
these are the days that test
your claim of being a roadie
if you’re riding, it’s more time
for conversation or writing

if you are the driver
it more time for conversation
or time to listen to that CD
that’s been sitting in the jacket
clipped to the visor collecting dust
you play it while your rider writes

before long the traffic jam dissolves
the songs are finished
the poems are written
the skies are cleared of fumes
our conversing continues
as we finally begin to move

Riding the Train at Night

riding the train at night
listening to songs
that tell tales
of tragedy

nursing my own fatal flaws
as my electrified transporter
through purple trails
dotted with street lights

i reflect
upon miseries
of the weak
and chronically
hungry widows
orphaned sons
orphaned daughters
fenced libraries
schools with chained doors
and the list goes on

as the train speeds
down the railway
the tears speed
across the tracks
of my face