I am a bird
No, a fly
A flying fly
Or am I falling
Flying or falling
You can fly down
But can you fall up
Flying or falling
I could be Peter
But maybe I'm Alice
What if I stop
If I stop flying I'll fall
If I stop falling I'll hit the ground
Or will the ground hit me
The fields roll gold
against the emerald
and violet edges
of dusk creeping in
and I found you
an oak tree and
I took you in
while ravens watched
and there's nothing
of in between
I saw the fog
like a dream,
cold and cozy
against my parents
blue beach house,
a shabby thing
a shabby little sea town
and I watched
against the glass
and heard boats calling
know I'm safe
but the dinner dad made
The night owl
comes to take me home
and I'm longing
for some sense of
wraps those broom-bloom
wings around me
am so afraid to fly
because when I open eyes
into bright lights
what it means to die.
I angle my upper body forward from my reclined seat back,
To gaze through three panes of a frosty porthole,
To view a blanket of lights on darkened earth.
But they're below me, I'm distanced.
I'm thirty thousand feet in the air.
Incandescent highways splinter and mend like aimless root networks,
Funneling wingless fireflies like worker ants. And I, here,
Hoping your luminescence is, too, wandering to your hive or elsewhere,
Hoping against hope that you notice me in transit.
Though I'm thirty thousand feet from anyone else.
At least, but likely closer to the distance between our moon and sun,
Hurdling through galaxies at the speed of super-sound,
Sure that even at the end of space, past comets and nebulase,
That even if I get turned around,
I'm thirty thousand feet from anyone else.
As the lights ebb and dim from outside my window panes,
Gradually giving way to blackened earthly landmass,
I will recline my seat slightly and rest my eyes,
Hoping the steady burn of the plane's fog lights guides you,
Thirty thousand feet closer to where you need to be.
He’d snip his wings & plummet into stone,
if it meant raising her. But ...it didn’t.
So instead, they beat faster than they ever had, before.
An ambulance in the sky:
he held her in his arms,
crossing the clouds, as
dyeing ..the ocean ~~~~~~~ below them.
In the midst of conversation A question rose out of the blue,
What would I do if such opportunity were to arise.
In a conversation about long term goals without hesitation or notion
Without any specifics given to her question I asked what opportunity.
She laughed slightly and repeated the question.
This time reaching inside of her chest and pulling her heart into a closer view.
She waited for reply.
I wandered around the look in her eye glancing back down at a now throbbing heart.
She said well, In a topic of long term ambition show me that I am not wrong about you.
I trust you well enough to do exactly what I know your about to do.
She stated nothing further.
With that being said I'd like to think that I made the right decision.
The openness of conversing about any and everything, the hint that actions speak louder than words.
I did what I suppose any sane man would do.
I flung myself into her chest and landed dead in the center of her heart without fear of missing.
These double doors are my eyes that see into peoples' lives
the end of a neon bright hallway, surgically clean
a lone traveller drags her life by the handle
here at an obscure hour while others sleep
I wonder if it's necessary that she leave?
She seems so removed from the furrowed brow
ticking watch business-man beside her
Watch the time. A missed flight. The world unfamiliar.
The agitated jitter of a lady puzzles me,
why does she cry? what is she leaving behind?
where will she go?
the airport departure lounge
for a travelling soul.