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Poetry Train America & Canada

By John E. WordSlinger All Rights Reserved ©

Humor / Mystery

Poetry Train Book Excerpts

                                     Poetry Train America

               Chapter 38 - Rhode Island January 4th, 2012

Andy was walking down the railroad tracks, when he heard men in the woods, and they were cutting down trees. When Andy got near them they called for him, and Andy heard one com-ing forward. Coming through the trees was Jung Hem Sing, and he asked where Andy has been, and Andy looked puzzled, "Yes, where was I? Andy asked himself. Then one of the oriental workers said, "If we get caught doing this." "Every State will start charging us all a toll."

Jung Hen Sing then laughed and said, "It's ironic, and holds up a large branch, a railroad branch also will extend from the Fitchburg road to Marlboro, tomorrow, as he was mimicking Patrick O'Hara with his Irish accent. Jung Hen Sing then laughed again, and said. "Massa-chusetts want us to go back and help them there, with their Hoosac Tunnel." "Their man made machines won't do it, so they want us to join with Hermann Haupt." "Huh, they shovel like they are shoveling snakes."

Jung Hem Sing looked at Andy and he wasn't paying any attention to what Jung said. Andy was staring down the railroad tracks, and way off in the distance there was a train. Jung Hem Sing then seen it, and he said something in Chinese that Andy couldn't understand. Jung Hem Sing was talking as he was walking towards the train. Jung Hem Sing didn't know what kind of train this one was, but Andy did. Andy just followed Jung. It wasn't cold anymore, and you could see heat flare up from the tracks. Jung Hem Sing turned around and said, "The engine is on, but it's quite." "Do you hear it Andy?" "I don't feel it." "Me must of had too much opi-um." "Too much suppressed." "Ah, the Fortunate Sons."

They finally came up to the train, a bullet train, and the cab door was open. Jung Hem Sing was curious and so was Andy, so they both went inside. Jung Hem Sing walked towards the Engineer's chair, and walked right into the glass. Andy laughed, and Jung Hem Sing got mad, and said something in Chinese. Andy then said, Jung, These are the trains of the future in your country.

Jung Hem Sing said, "No, you must have smoked to much opium."

Andy laughed and said, No opium here.

"No lumber, no iron." "This is magic Andy," Jung Hem Sing said.

Ieoh Ming Pei came running, Jung's master cook, and told them diner was done, and it was time to leave; furthermore Patrick O'Hara wanted them to return to camp. Then they heard a loud noise from the back of the train, a distant squeal, a door possibly, and they ran out of the train, and faster down the railroad tracks, and Jung Hem Sing said, "Oh, I need a Joss House."

The voice from the foreign train yelled at them, "Come here."

Andy, Jung, and Ieoh looked at each other and ran faster.

Andy said to them, We can't tell anyone of what we have seen, no one. Right after Andy said that, he noticed the flowers on the tracks, and he had seen that they went towards the morning path. He then said, Follow me, this is my morning path. They had to ditch the railroad, and run on a path along the river. The Blackstone River. The path Andy knew. The silent bell was still there, no matter how fast they ran.

When they got to the river there was a young boy, and he had turtles everywhere around him. He was playing with at least fifty turtles. He was talking to them, and they obviously were listening to him, and the boy started screaming when he seen Andy, Jung and Ieoh come run-ning into the boys play ground. The scream halted the three into a still trance, and a still stance. The boy circled them, and told them, "I am going to be farmer, and have many grand-children, and one of my grandchildren will tell you a story about me." "My parents got land for farming from the railroad." "These turtles flourish here, because they love the vibrations of the train, and they told me, when I am 80 years of age, these turtles, they will die out be-cause brick roads will be built for other means of getting around, and this railroad will slow-down, and have no more vibrations." "Turtles make rain, turtles die out, no more pond and river."

The boy grabbed a stick and drew a turtle on the river banks dirt. He then told Andy, Jung and Ieoh, "The farther the brick roads go, the wider dry the rivers get." he then said, "Look to the Sky." "Clouds coming, then lightning and rain, then more turtles, plentiful." "Not scarce yet." "Nor the woods." "You men should take that train." "It's like a rabbit." "No need for killing trees." "You men must run, because they are looking for you." "My name is Miller." "Run now, and there's no turtle train coming."

As fast as a train they ran. When Andy, Jung, Ieoh returned Patrick was mad. Mainly because Patrick was talking still and was convincing Mr. Welchberry, and Railroad Executive, Am-brose Everett Burnside that something was wrong with the train. The Boat Train was being used by the crew. Not only that, there was a change in plans, they have a new fuel, called Is-land Coal, that burns longer than any other source, so they cut wood for nothing.

Pardon me, said Hezekiah Butterworth, a local poet; "It may be a broken pinion, with all of your Zig Zag journeys lads," and he laughed. "And don't smoke, you lads don't smoke, do ya?" " I am the president of the Anti-Cigarette League, and it is my goal to protect America's youth from the evils of tobacco." "I am returning from Chicago on a Peace Congress mis-sion." "I am Poet Hezekiah Butterworth, good day lads, and welcome to Wickford Junction." "The Wickford Railroad and Steamboat Company's spur." "May God forgive Nathan Hale." Patrick was looking at them when Butterworth tipped his hat, and walked away.

Patrick's two lead men were gone with the head cook, and Nikola Tesla was on the train, looking for some work, and doing some research, and he was growing very impatient like everyone else, and Tesla stared at them in the eyes, and seen that they have seen the turtles. "Here are my men," said Patrick.

Tesla then said, "Magneta," and they had no clue what Tesla meant... Tesla knew they were on a radio rail-rodeo... As the train started to finally move, a storm was brewing off in the was still there, no matter how fast they ran.

When they got to the river there was a young boy, and he had turtles everywhere around him. He was playing with at least fifty turtles. He was talking to them, and they obviously were listening to him, and the boy started screaming when he seen Andy, Jung and Ieoh come run-ning into the boys play ground. The scream halted the three into a still trance, and a still stance. The boy circled them, and told them, "I am going to be farmer, and have many grand-children, and one of my grandchildren will tell you a story about me." "My parents got land for farming from the railroad." "These turtles flourish here, because they love the vibrations of the train, and they told me, when I am 80 years of age, these turtles, they will die out be-cause brick roads will be built for other means of getting around, and this railroad will slow-down, and have no more vibrations." "Turtles make rain, turtles die out, no more pond and river."

The boy grabbed a stick and drew a turtle on the river banks dirt. He then told Andy, Jung and Ieoh, "The farther the brick roads go, the wider dry the rivers get." he then said, "Look to the Sky." "Clouds coming, then lightning and rain, then more turtles, plentiful." "Not scarce yet." "Nor the woods." "You men should take that train." "It's like a rabbit." "No need for killing trees." "You men must run, because they are looking for you." "My name is Miller." "Run now, and there's no turtle train coming."

As fast as a train they ran. When Andy, Jung, Ieoh returned Patrick was mad. Mainly because Patrick was talking still and was convincing Mr. Welchberry, and Railroad Executive, Am-brose Everett Burnside that something was wrong with the train. The Boat Train was being used by the crew. Not only that, there was a change in plans, they have a new fuel, called Is-land Coal, that burns longer than any other source, so they cut wood for nothing.

Pardon me, said Hezekiah Butterworth, a local poet; "It may be a broken pinion, with all of your Zig Zag journeys lads," and he laughed. "And don't smoke, you lads don't smoke, do ya?" " I am the president of the Anti-Cigarette League, and it is my goal to protect America's youth from the evils of tobacco." "I am returning from Chicago on a Peace Congress mis-sion." "I am Poet Hezekiah Butterworth, good day lads, and welcome to Wickford Junction." "The Wickford Railroad and Steamboat Company's spur." "May God forgive Nathan Hale." Patrick was looking at them when Butterworth tipped his hat, and walked away.

Patrick's two lead men were gone with the head cook, and Nikola Tesla was on the train, looking for some work, and doing some research, and he was growing very impatient like everyone else, and Tesla stared at them in the eyes, and seen that they have seen the turtles. "Here are my men," said Patrick.

Tesla then said, "Magneta," and they had no clue what Tesla meant... Tesla knew they were on a radio rail-rodeo... As the train started to finally move, a storm was brewing off in the distance... A deep blue lightning struck the earth, plentiful. This winter was not at all a win-ter... And everyone seemed to have electric fever. And Mr. Welchberry was passing out candy to the orphaned kids on the train.

Andy felt the train was not moving as he awoke. He rose up and looked out the window, and there were grain elevators with lights all over them. Andy thought about Christmas last year with the one he loves. Andy remembered the music in his dream, and at the train station a man was playing the 'Celebrated Minor Jig, Les Sylphides and Pea Nut Girl' songs on a banjo. The sun was about to rise, and he then thought about time. A long time ago wagons were here instead of tractor trailers. Andy then heard a grain train backing up to the elevator. Andy felt that he was doing something great for poetry, and his dreams were giving him wisdom. He and Red were re-capturing time past, present, and future. Andy then thought about longevity and the turtles on the river bank in his dream. Then Andy got ready for breakfast, and he quoted a line from "Gone with the Wind" by Margaret Mitchell in past tense. "The land they thought was the only thing worth working for, worth fighting for, and worth dying for." "Why, because it's the only thing they believed that lasts."

The poetry must not be over looked. Use the energy you spend apologizing to better the things you can change. Complacent and diffused? Revolutionaries. Controversy. What don't you see happening in America? Glorification, Charlie explained over breakfast with Andy.

Working within, while also subverting it. Together. That's part of the fun, Andy said. Andy then thought, carefully research and think out, with a deep understanding of the code of hon-or in history.

Red was late, Andy thought that he was the one late. The fact is, they both were. It was obvi-ous that more sleep was a resolution.

Red then randomly said, Edwin Honig sees the aim of poetry as restoring the awareness of being both human and animal, and capturing historical perspective. He just passed away, Rest in peace Edwin, Red sadly said. He then thought I have an ark upon my shoulders, as the memory of the poem came. Red recited the poem, "The Ark Upon My Shoulders" by Forrest Gander. Listen at that bird, he'd say. "It's telling us, Love one another." Red thought of his dreams, and life has it changed. Then Red thought about the poem again, "He tried telling me it wasn't any death owl, it was a ordinary hoot owl outside the house." Red went right into re-search mode.

Red, can I read what you have so far on the written documentary? Asked Andy.

Why sure, Red answered. Red then began to search the coincidences of time, Native Ameri-cans, and Owl's. Myths, Legends and &c, for anything to help him with defining his dreams. Some Native American in me huh... Red thought... Because they were getting closer to North Carolina again.

Andy asked him, Whatcha doing Red? Red replied, "I am ordering Ted Berrigan's "Train Ride" poetry book." Cool, order me one Red, I'll get ya back, replied Andy.

And I am studying the poet William Allen White and his campaign. And seeing what we couldn't see, "American History," Red then laughed and said, You have to love, Michael S. Harper and his poem, "American History." A promoter of verse.

Breaking invisible codes are ye? asked Andy.

The waitress came to their table, and said, "Gentlemen here is a pecan pie, compliments of the Cook."

They thanked them both, the waitress and the cook, and went back to work.

Harper says, "We are need of sophisticated truth-telling." "The definition of the country is up for grabs." Red explained.

We are in an eruption, said Andy, Nature's mystery. You know Red, Owls are a lot smarter then we give them credit for. There is definitely something that has triggered their exodus and I do not believe it is a lack of food.

I agree Andy, and thanks for researching things for me, answered Red. The Owl depends on sound to hunt. Imagine a constant sound that is disrupting the owls ability to hunt. A sound that is only sometimes audible to humans.

Poetry, Andy said, and laughed, They have traveled many miles like us.

Red, rose his eyebrow, and then laughed.

Harper has lead me to Ralph Ellison, the writer of "The Invisible Man," said Red, and Ellison says, "Power, for the writer, it seems to me lies in his ability to reveal if only a little bit more about the complexity of humanity. And, in this country, I think it's very, very important for the writer to, no matter what the agony of his experience. He or she should stick to what they're doing, because the slightest thing that is new, or the slightest thing that has been over-looked, which would tell us about the unity of American experience beyond all considera-tions of class, of race, or religion—are very, very important. I think that the nation is still in the process of becoming, of drawing itself together, of discovering itself. And when a writer fails to contribute to this, then he's played his art false, and he probably does violence to our political vision of ourselves."

Invisible, the only escape available to man appears in the form of a manhole, through which he escapes underground, replied Andy, Ellison also said, "Imagination is where you find it; thus we must search the whole scene." An over load here.

Yes, many ripples here, replied Red, We will have to note this, because Ellison and White are two literary fighters. One for the freedom to express, and the other one fighting for the awareness, so both of them realized they have the freedom to express, and they wanted to harness these ideals with the youth.

The first published story written by Ellison was a short story entitled "Hymie's Bull," a story inspired by Ellison's hoboing on a train with his uncle to get to Tuskegee, Andy added.

Red rose up his head and said, We are going to be going on a bike ride in Providence, Rhode Island. Ocean scenic bike rides, trail the rail, and lunch at the Agave. The East Bay Bicycle Path. The shores of Narragansett Bay, and the Athenaeum.

Charlie told them, A bike ride will do us some good, because I am going with you, and recited a poem about Rhode Island.

ya ya the C inside the Circle John E. WordSlingerhttps://johnewordslinger.wordpress.com
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