Thursday, May 1, 2014

Farewell, dear Train

  Train died yesterday morning.  Prostate Cancer.  I saw this in his eyes and body a year ago or more.  When he still thought he had a stomach virus, and wouldn’t go to the doctor.  He worked as an auto mechanic, and wrote his poems on the side. Turns out he wouldn’t go to the doctor because he had no health insurance and didn’t have the money to pay a doctor.  Then it was too late. He was 54.

Here is what he looked like when I first met him, which was in the Spring of 2011:

Here is what he looked like last summer:

One of his poems:

When on the Porch at any Sunset
I do not think of what I am missing

These floorboards may leak in a hard rain
Cracked paint of hand railings expose the Original

My Silver garage roof rusty orange, blends West
Clouds choose How and When to reveal their Mood

This pen chooses what to write
I think of what to say, In this sudden night.
TR 6-2-10

photo he took:

another poem of his:


We Are Poets
Times of Our Lives
Fill Our Vessels

So We May Pour
Latent Context
Into Present
Onto The Page

One Truth Spills Out
Over Our Brims
All Life Is One
Found in God's Grin

TR 2-9-14

and here is a fundraising poster with Train's poem and artwork by Lisa Harman:

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