tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62067463529560933982024-03-18T03:03:59.547-04:00The Camel SaloonMay 3, 2010 -- JUne 28, 2015<br>The World's Original Online Poetry BarThe Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.comBlogger3479125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-31572666685508661132015-06-28T06:48:00.002-04:002015-06-28T06:48:28.278-04:00city lifeby Ross Vassilev<br />
<br />
another cancer Monday<br />
and you’ll see a light in the sky<br />
pulled by an old man<br />
wearing dumpster shoes<br />
and the brick walls<br />
will be innocent<br />
and you’ll open your palm<br />
and find a butterfly<br />
resting there<br />
and you'll forget about<br />
all the slaughter<br />
in the name of free markets<br />
and you’ll say aloud<br />
all wisdom is found<br />
in the heartless gutters of the world<br />
and it’ll mean more<br />
than all the bullshit<br />
you hear on the corporate news.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-57707831099326883072015-06-28T06:48:00.001-04:002015-06-28T06:48:21.563-04:00How can I be an English major?by Emily Ramser<br />
<br />
A senior in a black bra made me a screwdriver<br />
that tasted like furniture polish,<br />
and I doubled over crying<br />
because I'd forgotten that<br />
I don't know how<br />
to spell furniture without autocorrect<br />
and vodka just makes me sad.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-77982331719865009572015-06-28T06:48:00.000-04:002015-06-28T06:48:05.735-04:00Petrichorby Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco<br />
<br />
During the last storm<br />
the rain<br />
<br />
made islands on the windshield: clear<br />
and round<br />
<br />
as forming questions.<br />
<br />
You sat with me<br />
and we traced out soft new maps<br />
<br />
with shaking fingers – here<br />
is how<br />
<br />
I’d get to you, losing<br />
myself<br />
<br />
in the blank water. But<br />
it hasn’t rained<br />
<br />
in months,<br />
and the dust falls<br />
<br />
in soft sheets on your old car. There still<br />
are patterns<br />
<br />
on the glass<br />
left there like shadows.<br />
<br />
When I drive<br />
I see the rain<br />
<br />
pressed to the street, your fingers<br />
flattening the drops<br />
like ironed bedclothes, smoothing them<br />
<br />
with one vague handThe Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-7593764587772851932015-06-28T06:47:00.000-04:002015-06-28T06:47:54.428-04:00it doesn't matter/i couldn't careby Amy Soricelli<br />
<br />
if i could wear my name like black cloth across your back i would stamp down hard the misery in each<br />
letter - the solid pull of the earths force on all that shines;<br />
all that dusky misery will do to you.<br />
it is not enough to pound up the stairs in deep sighs - you can't always see the air as it hisses out of your mouth.<br />
nails and splinters winter and bone.<br />
i am the glass shield to no sadness you can name. if you called me hollow down the street i would come like a dog<br />
stand by the side of the building snickering sideways in tar.<br />
you can't capture the bee stings in a box tight with edges sharp like elbows -<br />
see me in long last glimpses behind you like a train passing.<br />
sweep me under the rug a loose pile of soundless empty i don't care.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com288tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-63404446728602854372015-06-27T07:43:00.001-04:002015-06-27T07:43:48.681-04:00ANOTHER DAYby Tom Montag<br />
<br />
Wind-beaten light<br />
in clotted sky.<br />
<br />
Some days you turn<br />
back and behind you<br />
<br />
find nothing. Some days<br />
you do not turn.<br />
<br />
A rare treasure, then,<br />
loveliness lifted,<br />
<br />
spun, made something of.<br />
You do not choose<br />
<br />
which you get. You must<br />
take them one by one.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com79tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-24435529968886258192015-06-27T07:43:00.000-04:002015-06-27T07:43:02.804-04:00Untitledby Ali Znaidi<br />
<br />
The solar system<br />
hasn’t got any idea<br />
about ‘the wretched<br />
of the earth,’<br />
or the oppressed,<br />
<br />
otherwise<br />
the sun wouldn’t<br />
rise.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-22098261880035938702015-06-27T07:42:00.000-04:002015-06-27T07:42:42.818-04:00she needs you by Linda M. Crate<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
she claws at you with such desperation i feel sorry for her. i wonder if this is what i must have looked like to everyone when i was chasing after someone who gave me up, too. always seeking your approval and your affection i wonder if you weren't her first. she tries so hard to act like she doesn't care, but she's like me. she cares too much and loves too hard. i never thought either of those things sins but they always seem to push people away. just know she's a delicate flower. those thorns are a lie. a defense mechanism that doesn't work. she needs you. regardless of what you may believe. </div>
The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-38968604711755740222015-06-26T10:37:00.000-04:002015-06-26T10:37:17.940-04:00At a gas station in Alabamaby Emily Ramser<br />
<br />
I stopped to buy a toothbrush,<br />
so I could kiss my girlfriend,<br />
but the cashier couldn’t stop<br />
contemplating my sex life,<br />
and the man filling up his truck outside was<br />
examining his new shotgun,<br />
so I began thinking about<br />
bending my girlfriend over the glass countertop<br />
and unbuttoning her jeans,<br />
but I needed to buy toothpaste too<br />
unless my girlfriend would just let me pretend to brush my teeth<br />
so that we could leave.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-32547382142029313852015-06-26T10:36:00.000-04:002015-06-26T10:36:27.951-04:00broken bottlesby Ross Vassilev<br />
<br />
I remember walking home<br />
from work<br />
streets littered with<br />
the broken bottles<br />
of the past<br />
and there was my fat queer boss<br />
and the Polish girl<br />
who was always wearing<br />
miniskirts<br />
showing her fat white thighs<br />
that I still can't stop<br />
thinking of<br />
and lonely parking lot nights<br />
and this what you get<br />
for $5.50 an hour in this<br />
broken down corner of time<br />
in the universe.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-26359749669650156462015-06-26T01:36:00.000-04:002015-06-26T10:36:59.405-04:00laugh at all the wrong jokesby J.J. Campbell<br />
<br />
slice your own<br />
birthday cake<br />
with a bloody<br />
knife<br />
<br />
pretty women<br />
that look like<br />
movie stars<br />
aren't from<br />
around here<br />
<br />
dance naked<br />
under a full<br />
moon and<br />
laugh at all<br />
the wrong<br />
jokes<br />
<br />
teach us the<br />
finer points<br />
of apathy<br />
and brooding<br />
existentialism<br />
<br />
i once wrote<br />
a story about<br />
falling in love<br />
with a girl with<br />
a boy's name<br />
<br />
the girl called the<br />
cops and now i'm<br />
hereThe Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-88585602186297539272015-06-25T06:06:00.002-04:002015-06-25T06:06:44.928-04:00King Arthurby Jon Bennett<br />
<br />
The day bartenders don’t make much<br />
but it’s not like<br />
they could work anywhere else.<br />
“Didn’t you move to Florida?”<br />
I ask Arthur.<br />
He looks loopy without his teeth in<br />
like an aged court jester.<br />
“I did, yeah…”<br />
he says, polishing a glass,<br />
“but it didn’t take.”<br />
It doesn’t seem to bother him.<br />
Has anything ever bothered him?<br />
I imagine him planted in Orlando<br />
floral shirt, Bermuda shorts,<br />
no, it wouldn’t take,<br />
like another knocked out tooth<br />
I tried to push back in.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-59648847026472264462015-06-25T06:06:00.001-04:002015-06-25T06:06:37.130-04:00Gravityby Mary C McCarthy<br />
<br />
This is all new to me-<br />
a world that follows the rules,<br />
time that piles up evenly,<br />
without blanks and bursts<br />
to trick my memory,<br />
sounds that all come from<br />
somewhere, voices that are<br />
accounted for in sensible<br />
ways. No surprises.<br />
You wouldn't think a world<br />
like that so hard to find,<br />
but I've waited a long time<br />
to be happily bored,<br />
contented with this new geometry<br />
where everything interlocks, orderly<br />
and neat, with no deep closets<br />
for things to jump out of,<br />
no cellars full of dust<br />
and darkness, no threatening<br />
shadows playing tag with me<br />
in broad daylight.<br />
I am glad to be here<br />
in the middle of the ordinary,<br />
just another Regular<br />
trying to fit in.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-58610161138996043662015-06-25T06:06:00.000-04:002015-06-25T06:06:27.342-04:00Johnnyby Alexis M. Pacheco<br />
<br />
What would the boy look<br />
like at twenty-nine,<br />
would his hands look<br />
the same as the hands that hold<br />
mine, would his eyes<br />
watch a wife<br />
<br />
he never met,<br />
watch the moonlight glint<br />
off of her bare back<br />
before he<br />
drifts<br />
<br />
to sleep.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-58690667772731737682015-06-23T06:18:00.001-04:002015-06-23T06:18:25.972-04:00Summer’s Embersby Emma Lee<br />
<br />
The driver in front did definitely not<br />
want to be startled back into this world<br />
of morning commutes and timetables<br />
as he dawdles and drifts, unsure of junctions.<br />
<br />
I don’t want to give way. Still unsure<br />
still wanting someone like you but not you.<br />
You’re not coming back.<br />
But time moves only forwards.<br />
<br />
I can’t stick with our routines forever:<br />
they yield the same results, each day<br />
following the pattern of the previous.<br />
Weeks slip into months, into years.<br />
<br />
A rare evening out and I barely catch<br />
a whispered wolf-whistle for my ears only.<br />
He doesn’t invade my space, lets his eyes talk.<br />
He’s younger. Someone I’d normally just walk past.<br />
<br />
I wish him a good evening and walk on by.<br />
I silently thank him for wakening something,<br />
not quite desire, more a wishful could-be.<br />
Until, <i>Hold your head up, you’ve got a pretty face,</i><br />
<br />
from a beer-bellied smoker. I’m reminded<br />
of the ratio of thorns to roses on a briar.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-25382949486072171262015-06-23T06:17:00.000-04:002015-06-23T06:17:58.887-04:00Old Peopleby Donal Mahoney<br />
<br />
These are old people<br />
retired and driving slowly<br />
from small apartments<br />
in economy cars<br />
getting out on canes<br />
and walkers with<br />
hearing aids you can see<br />
attired in the best<br />
Goodwill has to offer<br />
arriving between 1 and 3<br />
weekday afternoons<br />
at Mid-America Buffet<br />
eating their fill for $5.00 off<br />
piling their plates with<br />
chicken, meat loaf<br />
salads galore, veggies<br />
from childhood<br />
green beans, carrots<br />
eaten in a rush as kids<br />
listening to Fibber McGee<br />
and Molly on the radio<br />
eaten slowly now<br />
by folks who make it<br />
on crackers and snacks<br />
and one meal a day<br />
this one for $5.00 off<br />
at Mid-America Buffet.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-41112824675746604812015-06-23T01:00:00.000-04:002015-06-23T06:19:48.773-04:00 THE FIRST MOONby Marchell Dyon<br />
<br />
She is a daughter of Eve<br />
She has no need of God<br />
<br />
She is rebellious as she is head strong<br />
Even when she was a child she thought this way<br />
<br />
As a child she searched her grandmother’s garden<br />
For the perfect peach that would give<br />
<br />
Her wisdom beyond her years<br />
After finding it she knew she held the world in her hands<br />
<br />
She set her sails on getting university degrees<br />
Instead of cumulating babies<br />
<br />
When old age rattled her bones she would not be conquered<br />
She would not bow her head to death’s cold sword<br />
<br />
She would become a living flame<br />
Tossed across the night sky<br />
<br />
A goddess to look up to<br />
A way for other girls to follow<br />
<br />
To find the fruit she circled the globe<br />
Unlike Eve<br />
<br />
She would find the golden pear<br />
That would make her immortalThe Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-69538976720218471682015-06-21T06:56:00.001-04:002015-06-21T06:56:21.552-04:00Skewed by Umm-e-Aiman Vejlani<br />
<br />
The parrot puts on its green<br />
coat – lime, unspotted, smooth,<br />
even-coloured, featherless,<br />
a neck long and graceful unlike any<br />
other parrot’s, steps out of its keep<br />
with the aplomb of a ballerina,<br />
onto the sill sitting its trough<br />
of nectar;<br />
<br />
the heat doesn’t refrain its beak<br />
as it pouts at the albino pigeon<br />
struggling sight against the sun,<br />
watching the trough longingly;<br />
<br />
the only difference of distance<br />
between my grilled enclosing<br />
and the parrot’s is the colour<br />
of feet<br />
<br />
and the quality of the white-wash –<br />
mine not having withstood<br />
<br />
the weight of summer.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-46525365751434263892015-06-21T06:56:00.000-04:002015-06-21T06:56:10.188-04:00Geeky Bitterness by KJ Hannah Greenberg<br />
<br />
It’s enough that I sweat, waft moisture away,<br />
Expect customers to demand monies back,<br />
Bring pet gerbils to family gatherings, also<br />
Head to state parks for much needed vacation;<br />
Any vehicle that takes me places serves if<br />
Given sufficient dollops of new C++ code.<br />
<br />
Concerning each time a department member<br />
Wanted my suspenders to keep socks anchored,<br />
Bulimic-looking girlfriends sated, also their<br />
Dogs content with hastily sprung clay pigeons,<br />
My software equivalent of changing tires,<br />
Replacing oil, got recurrently shortchanged.<br />
<br />
“Alternate realms” doesn’t mean insalubrious wine,<br />
Sea stories repeatedly used to produce syrinxes,<br />
Other manners of pox, cute diseases, odd rashes<br />
Apropos to pea quiche, lemon drops, tomatoes.<br />
When I strive to produce nuanced interactions,<br />
Hearts break, consoles crash, friendship expire.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-7419625930551631052015-06-21T06:55:00.000-04:002015-06-21T06:55:41.386-04:00BYE MAby Marc Carver<br />
<br />
She could see the look in my eyes<br />
as I tried to pull the tears back in<br />
that hatred<br />
the pity..<br />
<br />
Nothing really mattered anymore<br />
but her last act.<br />
She knew I was not a normal person anymore<br />
I didn't care what poeple thought of me.<br />
<br />
So she let me go<br />
told me NEVER to come back<br />
not to see her like this anymore.<br />
<br />
Her last gift to me<br />
the gift of life to the gift of death.<br />
I had never ben there for her<br />
as she had always known<br />
I never would be.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-46800275921612840302015-06-18T06:18:00.000-04:002015-06-18T06:18:11.133-04:00a new attitudeby larry jones<br />
<br />
someone jabs a pregnant sow<br />
with an iron gate rod,<br />
she ain't moving fast enough.<br />
<br />
someone kicks a boar in the head,<br />
to prove he's a badass.<br />
<br />
someone slams a piglet on the cement floor,<br />
won't make weight, too skinny.<br />
<br />
someone can't find the bolt gun,<br />
kills a lame hog<br />
with a ten pound sledgehammer.<br />
<br />
fucking boss calls me into his office,<br />
says<br />
"you need to change your attitude,<br />
need to smile more often."<br />
<br />
i got a walmart happy face button,<br />
<br />
stuck it on my hat.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-77711628370423922672015-06-18T06:16:00.000-04:002015-06-18T06:16:42.637-04:00THE SHITS by Marc Carver<br />
<br />
On my way to the pub<br />
I looked down on the ground.<br />
<br />
There was a packet with some tablets left in it,<br />
so I picked them up<br />
and took a closer look.<br />
<br />
The packet told me they were constipation tablets.<br />
<br />
I threw the packet on the floor<br />
and wiped my hands quickly<br />
and hoped the tablets had not started to work yet.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-6087126559269547162015-06-18T02:25:00.000-04:002015-06-18T06:17:12.913-04:00The Fakeby Paul Tristram<br />
<br />
She was on 24 hour suicide watch,<br />
couldn’t take a bath, piss or shit<br />
without a female nurse present.<br />
They’d caught her with her head<br />
inside a carrier bag two days ago<br />
a minute after the dinner bell rung<br />
and yesterday found broken glass<br />
under her pillow, when she had thrown<br />
a tantrum and knocked it off the bed<br />
onto the sterile linoleum floor herself.<br />
I was in on a 10 day alcohol detox,<br />
pumped full of vitamins and Heminevrin<br />
awaiting sentencing in Crown Court.<br />
I watched from across the room<br />
as they spooned food into her mouth<br />
with plastic cutlery like a toddler.<br />
I knew her, by sight, same school,<br />
she was a year younger and was in<br />
the same class as my ex-girlfriend.<br />
Which we talked about, briefly<br />
that evening when she sauntered<br />
on over with a nurse at each side<br />
while I was playing a game of pool<br />
with an irate paranoid schizophrenic<br />
(I was cheating, obviously!)<br />
She asked about her old classmate<br />
to which I replied in monotone<br />
“Didn’t you hear? She topped herself ,<br />
no fuss, no messing about, just action!”<br />
and as I turn away from her performance<br />
I saw her hanging her head in shame.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-86011897810400909342015-06-16T06:24:00.001-04:002015-06-16T06:27:22.333-04:00I guess I'll never learnby Ezhno Martin<br />
<br />
My first job taught me<br />
that pretending to be Jewish<br />
isn't a solid long term strategy<br />
and my second job<br />
that adults will abuse children<br />
in any way they can get away with<br />
<br />
On my third job<br />
I discovered that<br />
even if you have warrants<br />
the police aren't always showing up to see you<br />
sometimes they just want a sandwich<br />
<br />
My fourth job taught me<br />
that calling your coworkers spaghetti faggots –<br />
even if it's an inside joke<br />
and you're a cross-dresser –<br />
is rarely advisable in front of the owners<br />
Mister and Mister Pellerito<br />
<br />
My fifth job taught me not to eat acid and come to work<br />
My sixth job to check the schedule<br />
My seventh that I'm a coward<br />
My eighth that just because I've started working<br />
doesn't mean the drug screen came back clean<br />
<br />
My ninth job taught me that when you work for the government<br />
the less work you do the better they like you<br />
I pretended to be looking for someone very important they've never heard of<br />
for at least four hours a day<br />
After that I ended up working job ten for eight months<br />
where I learned how to rob the register blind and cover my tracks<br />
<br />
Job eleven taught me that masturbating in the supply closet isn't all it's cracked up to be<br />
<br />
Jobs twelve and thirteen were pleasant really<br />
and not worth mentioning<br />
Job fourteen taught me<br />
that dreadlocks will make you the fall guy<br />
anytime anyone gets high in a two block radius<br />
Job fifteen that yo no puedo hablar español (es verdad)<br />
<br />
Job sixteen taught me that if you drink a fifth of gin<br />
you will sweat juniper poison for days<br />
<br />
Job seventeen that meth makes you a better employee<br />
because clean floors and walls and mop-sinks and TRASHCANS<br />
are more important than profits<br />
Job eighteen taught me that<br />
when your boss is fucking half the staff<br />
you better be extra nice to everyone<br />
just in case your arch nemesis<br />
suddenly becomes the latest notch on his bedpost<br />
Job nineteen taught me how to spot a pyramid scheme<br />
Job twenty that I sell cars like old people fuck<br />
and that car salesmen really are the lowest form of life on earth<br />
Jobs twenty-one through twenty-four taught me that working in an asian restaurant<br />
is the closest thing to hell<br />
over privileged white boys can know<br />
Job twenty-five that it wasn't the asians fault<br />
Job twenty-six taught me that lobbyists are professional liars<br />
so I shouldn't have been surprised<br />
when they lied about planning on paying me<br />
Job twenty-seven that kindness to me<br />
is treason to Corporate America<br />
Job twenty-eight taught me that it's actually possible<br />
to get a job at MacDonald when I'm black out drunk<br />
I don't remember filling out the application<br />
or showing up for the interview<br />
I just remember them calling and asking why I wasn't at work<br />
and I remember telling them<br />
<i>BECAUSE SUCKING DICK AT A TRUCK STOP</i><br />
<i>SEEMED LIKE A MORE DIGNIFIED WAY TO MAKE A LIVING</i><br />
<br />
Job twenty-nine taught me that dreams do come true<br />
but that they don't last if my big mouth has anything to do with it<br />
<br />
All I've actually learned<br />
is that I never learn<br />
and that if you're gonna be dumb<br />
you better be toughThe Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-12904158614604999492015-06-14T06:39:00.002-04:002015-06-14T06:39:41.095-04:00Turtle-Whisperfor Peter Streetby Laura Kaminski<br />
<br />
Small, soft-shelled thing<br />
still encased in a pale<br />
leather orb -- the moon<br />
<br />
looks just like you do,<br />
mostly round.<br />
The dunes are filled<br />
<br />
with hungry monsters<br />
gathered in anticipation<br />
of your hatching.<br />
<br />
Listen.<br />
When you come out onto<br />
the sand, don't dawdle.<br />
<br />
Turn immediately<br />
to find the greater egg<br />
of safety, make<br />
<br />
a straight-line furrow<br />
toward the moon's<br />
reflection in the sea.<br />
<br />
Don't waste time on<br />
fearful dodging of their<br />
vicious claws -- just<br />
<br />
scramble, stretch each<br />
flipper to put the beach<br />
behind you,<br />
<br />
fix your gaze on that<br />
bright glow<br />
beyond the froth.<br />
<br />
When you emerge, you'll<br />
have no time to be<br />
careful.<br />
<br />
Some stories will<br />
be lost<br />
before the sunrise.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206746352956093398.post-86343111123917294122015-06-14T06:39:00.001-04:002015-06-14T06:39:31.708-04:00CSX in Tennesseeby Sandy Hiortdahl<br />
<br />
Steel wheels<br />
Thunder onward,<br />
Train speeds through the hollow,<br />
A Coal God’s fierce, joyous whistle,<br />
Nightly.The Camel Saloonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466326145539153263noreply@blogger.com1