from Elmau, by train: ~~~ Why can the earth not hold me now but spins beneath me while I seek the sunlight and the endless day? Why does the whispering morning not find me beneath inexpedient hands instead of on steel rails and air and holding ticket stubs for places I can’t belong and thinking of here and there with their empty, proper names? Why can a word with more weight than a million perished stars only leave me a limping homeward bell-deaf dog for whom all separations last forever? ~~~