Showing posts with label flight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flight. Show all posts

Monday, February 20, 2023

Natural selection



The way 
Blessings pretend-
disguise themselves 
as heavy and foreboding 

Such a gift-
Good riddance 
feels, say-from divorce,
sweet endings and 
Lighter.

Life is only choices,
the pathways and doors
Present all themselves
as such
choosing persists
and curiosity is 
Chosen.

After all,
Giving up
may be 
weight or wings
such things 
open and close 
Inevitably. 



Artwork by Emperor Huizong of Song, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.


Sunday, February 3, 2019

feather weather


The awkward bird
arose from her branch
puffing up her breast
and shaking her head
discovering a burning
sensation
in her throat
which carried pangs
into her tiny talons.

She tried out
a few simple notes
to crack open the stale air
before asking
the question,

was there a moment,
a degree of light or altitude
a passing gale
ideal
for realization
for comprehension of wings,
to soar, to sore to try again
and again
when did it know
to sing in truth with only vowels

Where did the poet go
in verse?

The owl chimed in
wisely
turning nocturnal
eyes
with avian alibi,
refused to name names.


Painting by Friedrich Thurau, c.1868 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Friday, June 9, 2017

Fight or flight


I propose
to usurp the power that death takes
hold, clamping its rusted iron jaw on degradable values
make diffused, diluted and convert to decrease aversion

Fight or flight for
Fear?
(clipped wings are for peacocks)

I have thawed my right angles
to meet the idea of my mortality
in mirrors and simulations and held white
for a time, essentially accepting
dirt nor ash is enough to subsist us

For the birds-just-ice

Leave me
Happily ever after
Life.

Lastly, carried away
Wishes molded into clay sink
while the will
always ends 
with wind.



Painting by Melchior d'Hondecoeter [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Electra en route


The skydiver sits with legs dangling
over some hazy sepia city, where white boulders
are really single-family houses.

The words in the sky-
The only open space-
mention the management of
Trust and Risk.

From the profile
I recognize the Roman nose and swollen lower jaw,
puffed up bottom lip.
The head is tucked in a leather helmet or bonnet
and thick black gloves meant for big jobs such as 
holding on. The figure is slumped over, looks down.

I note how long it has been yet despite the gap 
easily identified as the Pioneer Amelia Earhart;

whose good fortune in men and time
required no planning of retirement,

whose fate turned ill at forty-one,

whose security was not welded to stocks or
bonded to breed,

whose figure seems compatible
in that alien atmosphere,

who was never buried

whose sealed lips, stony gaze,
Pause one to wonder what she sees
in the shadowtrees painted below,
does this sky have depth perception,
or recognize
the Miss Appropriation, the mixed media,
the teetering between jump and fall,
I tear out
the full page newspaper advertisement
and fold it back into a paper plane. 


"You haven't seen a tree until you have seen its shadow from the sky."-Amelia Earhart


Amelia Mary Earhart was born on July 24th in 1897, she disappeared in her plane Electra and was declared dead on January 5th, 1939. 

1st photo of Amelia and her husband George Putnam taken 1931, By International News Photos (eBay front back) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
2nd photo By San Diego Air & Space Museum Archives [No restrictions or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Tres (trace)

Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...