Twilight returns to its holy scar.

Locomotive pulling north to where
a glacier recedes over shale,

delicate starlight strung forest
to field behind open boxcars.

Animal eyes ember near
this passage of iron, moon

planting quivers of blue silver inside forest.

*
Veteran on the small platform facing north,
swearing his oaths, breath fogs

into a gray scarf taken by a breeze.
Adjusting his top coat, ready to parade,

he’s surviving another memory
as snowfall’s white silence dissolves

the sharp notes of an inhaled pace.
The hidden moon sends envoys

carrying white feathers, conditional
easements granted inside the shadow

of promise as winter digs into his lungs.

—

Born and raised in Charleston, S.C., moved to Chicago, and educated at
red-bricked universities and on city streets, Charles Thielman has enjoyed working
as a truck driver, city bus driver and enthused bookstore clerk.

Married on a Kauai beach in 2011, a loving Grandfather for five free
spirits, his work as Poet, Artiste and shareholder in an independent
Bookstore’s collective continues!

And not a few of Charles’ poems have been accepted by literary journals, such as
The Pedestal, Poetry365, The Criterion [India], Poetry Salzburg [Austria],
The Oyez Review, Battered Suitcase, Poetry Kanto [Japan], Open Road [Planet Earth],
Tiger’s Eye and Rusty Nail.