For Charles Tyner

As men and women left the train
and moved into the segments of their lives,

I left that station for the first time,
the evening newly darkened,

and then walked streets I'd walked
before, neon drifting pavements,

Enville Street, Pennymeadow and went
to my appointment. I thought of your

new intentions and how the rails
spill on until they touch real presences -

beyond sleepers and aggregate sopped
in oil, scorched buddleia, brambles,

the tunnel entrance and the hill's brow,
and that angel caught in mid-utterance.


The Scattering Scree
...