Martha Cinader

Author, Poet, Performance Artist

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Note Poems
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The Train Runs

The Train Runs chugging dividends to the very end from its stack while cars fall from the track, doesn’t need water, never looks back or ahead, doesn’t see you, me or the dead.
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The Train Runs

chugging dividends 
to the very end
from its stack while
cars fall from the track,
doesn’t need water,
never looks back
or ahead,
doesn’t see you, me or the dead.

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