Rail Therapy, Inspecting The Continuum

Time and space propagate in all
Directions, and then, when done
Get up and do it again --time emits
Time, divides itself, displaces space
As motion does mass.
Good, there are times 
I need a kick in the past--
Which is hard on brains and why
I ride trains: therapy between
Points A and B confined to steel
Defines reality in terms of there
And here, and they serve beer.

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For a superior lyric and story, please run this vid of Guthrie performing a Steve Goodman song that has, in the past 45 years (a magic number matching my wedding anniversary tomorrow), become something between an anthem and hymn to this great land.
 
 

 

And, yes, don't have my specs on but believe that's Pete Seeger on banjo.

Field Care And Turbo At Four

Our reception of time,
In unseen circuitry
And green antennae
Over seed.
We grow, need.
Potentials isolated,
Rhythms set:
Birth, thought teach
Us each greater
Creations, creators--
But none equal
The incomparable
Force of not being, then
Being --isolated, set--
Which of course
We promptly forget.

Portable

Not so much memory
Or destination or
Station stagnant
In a poem --what
Is home but finding
Our place in
The journey?
Moved among moving
Stars, a trajectory,
We become.