When the Open is No Other
            Houses the Strength of Harriet Tubman

Naked the rails opened up into out to silver the possibilities of Harriet Tubman.
No one knew more than she did about the others and helped
to human the strength of sorrows-red-sorrows.

The third eye wears the reason why: They won’t come home.

                  Where else is there is there to run when the open there is no other?

There. Running and finding that the question itself is a coalition of the light.

The called and passages foretold of one’s west was unafraid of the iron door,
the only option became the passion of escape's long shadow
so crossed with arms lost to blot the hands.

To be a lamp, the going go.

               (That a body vanished could climb down the rails and now back around
                  through the old one into a fugitive crossed with All, the way Harriet
                     Tubman houses the eyes houses the strength of Harriet Tubman.)

Beneath everything else there is the railroad, a running and a finding, the railroad.

The belly of it all — away there beside the sorrows — and in this belly a lighted room.

Jeffrey Little | Mudlark No. 22
Contents | Crazy Horse