Transcontinental Railroad


In a slow place, I wonder


I know, places are for walking

Wonder with an a, to wander, then

But the movement on the inside is

What seems to matter

The value in introspection, of hiking the

Mind on another side


Thoreauvian travel, as it were

I was told he walked to Concord often

From the pond, a matter of some


Not many

And this defined great travel to Thoreau

Because of how he trod

Through the



Pathways and passageways

That were of value to him

Through illumination


Pegging a lantern of discovery from

One part of a dark way (now lit)

Into the next


It’s like an empty railway

The bed and ballast, maybe ties


Will a set of rails

Then a train course over

Or course through

A plain, a valley, and

A tunnel


Maybe new passageways


Lacking mechanism


No timetable needed

Or requested


Ambling through the corridors instead

And hollows about discovery

‘Til a slide or lack of entryway

Makes us

Go ‘round another

Corner, a bend


Take an unmeasured angle or,

Who knows,

Set up another platform


We go

Out of order,


Or maybe all aligned


To find


The course

Or, yes, the track

Of inner life


Less taken, maybe

Maybe difficult but

Brave to try


Take it

Like the flyer (Dixie or

Overland) upon the rails



Be the kind

That must stop to rest,

Out of respect

For human crossings,

Not to freeze up at

The borders



Neither they nor you

Have to


C L Couch



Arne Hückelheim

Railway tracks in the sunset. Taken at Frankfurt Central Station.