Transit
In transit, the intricate woodgrain doorposts
turned thesis and were neglected.
Frozen hallelujahs on my lips; how long
since my coaled tongue moved
in the vessels, in the chambers, in the sad
and holy glow of that diminishing halo!
Elsewhere in transit, the studied pockmarked
pavement: I could write a book
about the awkward landscapes that define
our superposition.
![[caedmonscall.net]](http://rmfo-blogs.com/images/ccneticon.jpg "The quasi-official fan site of Caedmon’s Call.")
![[derekwebb.net]](http://rmfo-blogs.com/images/dwneticon.jpg "The official fan site of Derek Webb.")
![[rmfo-blogs.com]](http://rmfo-blogs.com/images/rmfoblog.png "About the [rmfo-blogs] service.")