sand-alone stand

this is my poesy sandbox
in which I play
alone
hurling words
instead of stone

forging alphabetic tracks
with an iron will
to drive my train of thought

on syllabic steel wheels of twenty-six
moves my train
wagons of words
heavy with freight boxes of pain
within which bone marrows of memories contain

these words on wheels
locomote to desolate lands
imparting adage of the tongue-tied dumb
erringly called wisdom
so it can be heard by the blind ears of the brainy
and seen by the deaf eyes of the walleyed fool
but understood by neither minds

trundling its way downhill
to the valley of despair
in a serpentine motion it undulates
fired by coals of dark desire
it rises up again
but towards calvary this time
a hopeless mound of doom
shouldering a life-size cross
and three rusty nails to boot

unblinking sentences void of punctuation
ramble and stutter on staccato rails
stuck on a pair of unparalleled tracks of truth
they cough and creep slowly towards the last loop

destination?
nowhere!

well within sight
carrying a lump of a body
subtracted from its bone
barely able to alight

I am home again
back to the place I never left
alone again
face down in my sandbox
I am whole again