‘There is an amusing story of poet Tim Inkster who went searching for the poetic significance of the raven in northern Ontario. ... Stumbling into a local pub after trying to photograph the bird, he found a quiet dark little corner to sip his beer and reflect on the day’s work. Sensing something looking over his shoulder, Inkster wheeled around to see a huge stuffed black raven with glass eyes staring him down. It was about as large as an eagle and equally forboding. This story is a suitable preface to the work in this chapbook, The Crown Prince Waits For A Train, because the image of the raven is predominant (along with the train) in dealing with the themes of lost time and the realization of horror.’