Posts tagged ‘Planes’

February 24, 2018

a million pieces in my head from the 1990s, in summer and winter and with my family

one time, in wintertime,
my dad flew his ultralight plane
to about a 1,000 feet above La Crescent.
he was over blue lake at the time,
at which point
he dropped an old bowling ball,
straight down from the blue heavens.
it hit mature ice and shattered
into a million splintered jet-black diamonds.
its inception played out in reverse on mute.
in summertime, over Wildcat Landing he did the
same stunt with a Santa and a parachute.
i wonder about physics and propellers.
i wonder about moments and momentum.
i suppose he was creating novle myth here locally,
reprising antiqued beliefs,
taking awesome to new inspiring heights.
and now the dust settles on one-of-a-kind.
i suppose, or not. i don’t know.
i guess i sometimes remember these things
and wonder where those new inconoclasts reside.
too many sycophants to being glib modern Spectacle.
maybe he was just raising hell in the 90s,
being like he wanted to be, naturally,
high up in the wind, free.
no politics had a hand in it.
no opinions that were unreal.

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December 29, 2014

Day Two: Dublin, Ireland.

Sitting here with a view of predawn Dublin;
Lights slowly flicker on,
A dark morning comes to fruition.

Stretching and yawning moans,-cold to chill the bones through,
And the others are asleep while I write to you.

Electrical outlets and jetlag at present,
As the global news dances on a set.

From this now local residence, everything must be accounted for in this list’s existence:
Not to miss a flipped switch, groceries, taxis, euros, and pubs, a lit doorway in the distance.

Sitting alone,
Taking it in.

Thoughts of warm tea, or coffee.

The cold in my throat looms as heavy as the cold in the room,
And the sun has not yet risen to melt it away.

I wait for Day Two in Dublin, a brand new day.

August 26, 2012

End Scene: V.V.

Entities in an establishment longing for one another, undercover of foresight, she’ll be back in a fortnight.

Encased in white, encased by mother and brother.

 

Liquor and culture about; a jovial spread.

 

Eyes locked, avoided for the most part, pondering a predicament; this angel is heaven sent.

As not to draw attention, unwanted suspension of situation.

 

Something to mention.

Something to mention.

 

We wait…

 

Ducking down to create a sense of loss.

We did this before, a few hours back.

Hardly an instance of thought is put into the sleep that was lost.

 

The moments harden and crack to black.

Sat back and relaxed in the past.

 

Eyelids as rusted metal; oil maintenance is a necessity posthaste.

 

I am gone only but from the trivial times, coming out from the galley.

She has left-

 

Left me a souvenir, a created past; empty glasses on the table, plates removed by the able.

Staff wipes the evidence into a stained bleach-soaked towel.

Napkins rest crumpled with DNA of my lover, true fable.

 

Never before has there been such an intelligent and learned listener, empathy for we…

Empathy, you see.

 

Gone.

 

Rush out to the floor to observe what was before.

(Has this been the last sight I will see of her?)

 

Praying she hasn’t passed the doorway.

I explore.

 

Hands splayed at the side like a madman, but calculated.

I have two occupations presently.

 

Find her.

 

Straight ahead and to the right, she does the same but to the left.

She has not the latter.

 

Across the room, and we lock eyes again for the last time.

As she is looking for me.

 

Smile as long as the Nile.

True glee.

 

I raised an arm and opened my mouth as if to say, “Love! ┬áDon’t forget, don’t go just yet.”

There is a lot to do, us two.

 

She ran back, as I, we met half way.

A hug, a kiss, and this I think of today.

 

She sits on a plane…

I watched her walk away.