Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Railing
Who is the ghost that walks the train?
The apparition tugs on our shirt sleeves
But all rides are displaced
We are logged into otherness,
Password protected
Our faces dug deep into ourselves
Reflections fed to us
Wires from out our ears
Wi-Fi, stuck in our gut
Download speeds of the central nervous system.
Our spines reverberate myriads of chatter.
A silent rustle, instilling itself
Convincing us without us ever knowing
How important we are compared to
All other representations of knowing
While we are in the midst of knowing.
It’s called automatic updates
The train moves automatically
We are in a moving bubble…..and
From the windows see sprawl
Hurling past us………………tame trees
Surly lawns, hybrid bushes
Dotted between office buildings
Who give out loans, advice, and massages,
Fast food made to look like good food
Good food made to look like fast food
We look to make it home, safe
To pass through concrete stops embedded
With glitter and tactile paving
Ghost, ghouls, and the sleepless.
All stops are washed down, nightly
To make sure everything is clean
We wait for our stop, or stops
Trapped in by the prerecorded
Professional voicings of destinations
Which are never really stops
Just representations of stops.
Glued to our world, the rails
We read in glorious fonts….about
Long-gone idiots and fools, ghosts.
We are fascinated
about the sky
How its falling
Why its falling
Why it should fall
What we should do when it falls
If it didn’t fall
There wouldn’t reason.
Reasons….
For us to be living it up
We could ride forever like this
We will ride forever like this
On this train that gets us to work
Takes us back home again
Between murders and wars
Youtube and hookup sites
These things that record us
Splinter meaning into twos
until all movement becomes reaction
To representations (ghosts) of
The electricity that sings about
Who we think we are
34 Comments on “Railing”
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Elan Mudrow 
Pingback: Railing | Mary Clark, Writer
“We wait for our stop, or stops
Trapped in by the prerecorded
Professional voicings of destinations
Which are never really stops
Just representations of stops.
Glued to our world, the rails
We read in glorious fonts….about
Long-gone idiots and fools, ghosts.”
My soul… Railing. Thanks for this.
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I was going to say what Ralph said above, but since he did, I won’t. I’ll say this is good stuff, loaded with excellent images that sing out loud.
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Love this!
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I love the stuttering of connect-disconnect. And of the allusiveness that tantalises …
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Wow, that’s a really clever way of thkining about it!
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Thanks so much!
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Reblogged this on Mary Clark, Writer and commented:
Elan Muldrow is an amazingly good poet!
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Just wanted to say that Your posts give me life. I love them so much. I love your poetry even more.
I don’t even remember when I subscribed/or what ever I did to get your posts on a regular base but that was a great choice.
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This is a beautiful, evocative poem. As a daily commuter on the NYC subway system, it resonated deeply with me. Thanks for sharing (and for following my blog)!
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Your poem has reached out to my memories of riding Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) – many years ago. I enjoyed riding – letting someone else drive as I daydreamed out the window.
Thanks for sharing that.
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thanks. But my understanding of Plato and Derrida would leave me suspecting that they would agree technology is killing us. Representation is another thing, and one that technologists hardly get. I will think about it. ciao
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Very subconscious.
Thanks for sharing.
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Huh ? LOL
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I love this.
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An amazing slice of life reflection. I can relate. The speed at which we live daily. There are gifts and challenges to every new technology. I am getting off the train tomorrow to spend time in nature. I always appreciate your writing. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
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Salmon River updates found under “photography” page.
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I’m definitely not saying “technology is killing us” That would be way too simple and incorrect. The whole of the aesthetics of literature entangles the reader and the author with the ideas of representation from Plato to Derrida. I’ll leave you with that to ponder.
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Yes, Lovely except that it is a poem putting into the sky the fireworks that say, Technology is dead and killing us.
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Marvelous!
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Sure
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I’ll give that some thought. Thanks
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We would love you to send us six photos to be featured on our site. Please let us know if you are interested. Thank you. David
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Very nice. I’m going to have to read that a few more times to really appreciate it.
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Amazing capturing of an imbedded slice of our culture – or should I say entrained.
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Very insightful! Thank you for sharing.
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Awesome!
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Deep observations pinned down beautifully.
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Brilliant.
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“The electricity that sings about, Who we think we are” Wow ! Now that says a lot about society today. Well done (as usual).
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Nailed it. Beautiful.
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Lovely. Just lovely. ❤
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“until all movement becomes reaction” and we learn to ignore the cosmic radio that sings of who we really are…
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Great story!!!
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